A Song of Fate and Misfortune
by Sasha-Gahere
Summary: After cheating his own destiny, the Chosen Unkindled finds himself in a strange land where he hopes to find the purpose he needs to stave his hollowing, or perhaps, come to terms with the decisions he has made.
1. Prologue

**_Prologue_**

A cool breeze blew across the foreign land, rustling the tall grass that caressed a near dead body that sat solemnly by itself in an open field. The body struggled to get up; beaten, bruised and barely hanging onto his life, he laid down with a sense of fulfilment. If he wasn't wearing his helmet, a wide smile would be spreading on his face from one cheek to another.

He had done it. It was all behind him now.

He reached to his side and felt where he had been mortally struck in the last battle. His hand felt damp with blood, and he knew that maybe, just maybe, he would get to die. His hand fell from his side and landed on the grass. Blood splashed up on his armour and although most people would have been mortified to know that whatever little bit of life you had was seeping into the root of the grass beneath you, this young man couldn't help but feel relieved.

"Oh please" he pleaded, "Let me die, just this one time... Let _this_ be the end".

He closed his eyes, a smile still on his face. Even if he just got to live in this world for just a small etching in the paper of history, it would be the happiest he had ever been since waking up in that God forsaken graveyard in what seemed like years ago. He felt the darkness creep up on him, and drawing a last breath, felt his body go cold into what he hoped would be an eternal slumber.

* * *

But fate is an essence quite convoluted in nature, and as fate would have it, this individual wouldn't have the luxury of prematurely ending his quest.

The young man opened his eyes. He rose underneath a blanket of stars that stretched beyond the land around him, and felt the cold sting of night peg his armour. He put his hand to his side- he had healed. He didn't even bother to check under his armour, since this wouldn't be the first time something like this would have happened. He got onto his knees and began to gather stones, forming a small circle. He placed an unused sword onto the middle erect, he put his hand over it and the embers within him took flame.

 _Such was his curse,_

 _Kindled with cheap ember,_

 _Unfit for the flame itself._

 _The damnation of the Unkindled._

The warmth emanated and slowly wrapped itself around the man. He hugged his legs into a huddle and for the first time ever, missed _her_ white flowing hair.

"Maybe in this land there are others like me too..." he whispered into the cold air around him, only to be answered by the cackling of the embers in front of him.

The thought that he hadn't really escaped his curse at all seeped into his head. Had this all been for naught? He sat at his bonfire and buried his head into his lap. He would dream of his own world, the nightmare of it's purpose and his secret betrayal, and when he would awake, he would find search himself for a purpose as to not go hollow.


	2. Chapter I

Chapter I:

Times of Peace

The Ashen One had long since abandoned his first bonfire and had begun to walk aimlessly through the field till his feet no longer rustled though grass, but instead, trampled on a typical dirt road. He looked up and down the road, comforted at his newfound ability to choose where to go. He set himself on going towards the north and began to walk down the path across fauna and fields.

Travel was made extremely easy for the Ashen One. His throat never felt parched and his stomach never ached. Within the hour however, he did bump into his first obstacle. He spotted a small caravan traveling by horseback and felt his spine shudder. His hand instinctively rested itself on one of his two swords; he didn't know what kind of monsters this world held; but as the caravan approached, the leader raised his hand and waved it with such ease and comfort it made the Ashen One even more suspicious.

"Hello there, traveler!" the man called out in a gruff, but friendly voice.

The Ashen One continued to walk, arching his head towards the ground but eyeing the caravan leader. On the leader's side was a plain, but nonetheless worrying, sword. Such kindness was long lost in the Ashen One's own world. Was this a ploy? Was this-

The caravan leader said something to one of his followers and broke free from his group. He led the horse onward at a quickened pace towards the Ashen One and the Unkindled tightened his grasp on his blade, but was careful to keep it sheathed. The caravan leader's horse reared itself away, sensing the danger but the leader calmed it down.

"Easy stranger! I mean you no harm, promise!" he said as he pulled the horse to the left and faced the Ashen One properly.

"If you don't want to lose an arm, I suggest you be on your way" the Ashen One called out menacingly.

The horseman watched the Ashen One's stance, and a frown pronounced itself on his face.

"I was just trying to be friendly, I-I didn't mean to come off as threatening or anything of the sort".

The man tempered his grip on his reins, the horse's instincts betrayed his master's control, but after a few seconds, he calmed the beast and the horse came to a halt.

"Name's Gerard, and my troop and I are traveling to the Out Realm Gate to deliver some supplies. It's rare to see lone travellers 'round these parts so I figured you might be lost. What do you call yourself, knight?"

The Ashen One thought about the simple man and almost responded, but the truth was he had a bit of trouble remembering his own name. But within the second the memory of when he woke up in the graveyard and peered at his own grave's obituary flashed before him. It had read "Ansem the Just", but he had never used the name before.

"My name is... Ansem" he said, testing the name out with his tongue.

It felt foreign to him, but it would have to do. Something told him that the name "Chosen Unkindled" would probably pose more questions than it would answer. Still, it would take some getting used to.

"That's a fine name for a knight! Where are you off to?" Gerard said as his caravan finally caught up to where the two were conversing.

The rest of the troop watched the knight with curiosity as they continued down the road. Most of the lords and knights of the land brandished well kept clothes and wore rings, but this knight's armour looked battered, smashed and the cape he had was full of holes and had long since lost its colour. The Ashen One was filled with embarrassment, not because of his attire, but because he didn't know how to answer the question.

"I... I'm not quite sure, I'm not exactly from around here..." he said, feeling like he wasn't answering the question properly.

"Are you a knight of Plegia?" the old man said as he spurred his horse north.

"Sure, like I said; I'm not from around these parts" he lied in response.

"You can keep heading north in this direction till you reach the outskirts of Ylisstol. That's a 3 day walk, but if that doesn't sate your curiosity, further down the road a couple days is an arena where warriors come to prove their strength. It's not my flavour of entertainment-" he paused with a smile, "-but I know many lords who would pay good gil for a good show".

"I see" the Ashen One said as took his hand off of his blade, "then I suppose I should be on my way then".

The Ashen One understood the kind of man Gerard was. He was the kind of man who needed to feel that he understood the world with a sense of clarity that was lost on the common man. It was this arrogance which filled the hearts of men and undead alike; the kind of arrogance that could give meaning to small men, meaning that was necessary to keep someone going through a meagre existence. Perhaps the people here weren't that different from undead after all, the Ashen One thought to himself.

Funny how that is, hollowing and living a life without purpose are much the same.

"Oh… well okay then. Good luck on your journey I suppose" he said a little bit flatly.

The caravan leader was about to part ways when suddenly the Ashen One spoke up.

"You wouldn't happen to have a spare horse, would you?"

Gerard thought for a second before he shrugged his shoulders.

"Sure I do, but I can't just give them out for free".

"That shouldn't be a problem. I have plenty of sou- er, I mean, I have decent wares to trade" he said, knowing that the souls he had accumulated wouldn't pass for currency here.

Gerard looked down at the Ashen One's weapons. He seemed fixated on his main twin swords in silence, unfortunately for the old man, there was no way the Ashen One would part with these blades. Instead he traded a fine, but unused blade from a Lothric Knight that he had in his bottomless box.

The man didn't ask about the box, but he seemed genuinely confused when he pulled such a blade from what seemed like a tiny jewellery box.

"I didn't know that Plegia had such sorcery. Guess times are a' changing" he cried as the Ashen One put the box away.

The Ashen One never had to explain the box to anyone in the past, and he wouldn't make the exception for this stranger. Gerard whistled to one of his men to come by and one of his men arrived with another horse in tow. The Ashen One mounted up and finally parted ways with the trader with the words that were below his name on his grave stone.

"Long days and pleasant nights to you, Gerard", and just like that, he galloped with speed towards the north.

The caravan leader watched his figure disappear over the hill, before continuing on his journey to the Out Realm Gate. He looked down at the sword the stranger had given him, and noticed that it had a crest that he had never seen in his life. He had been all over Archanea, east and west and not in the faintest recesses of his mind did this crest appear.

"Just where on Earth did you come from?" he muttered as he took one last look at where the knight had disappeared, before galloping away to rejoin his troop.

* * *

He rode until the Sun had made it's long arc across the sky and finally laid itself to rest over the mountain tops. The plain path had become a dense forest and the Ashen One found himself under the stars once more, using a small lantern to light his path in front of him. Nothing but crickets and the chirps of night critters filled the air, and while he was probably close to that town the caravan leader mentioned, the dense cover of the trees made confirmation impossible.

But just as his mind began to wander, he heard a distant 'whistling' sound, recognised it, but didn't nearly have enough time to get out of the way. The long arrow plunged itself into his chest and a sharp outburst of pain escaped his mouth.

The horse reared itself in fear and the Ashen One struggled to keep the horse steady.

Another whiz, and an arrow pierced right into the horse's side. The horse violently jolted up with a terrified neigh and the Ashen One lost his grip on the reigns and fell sideways, his head hitting the ground with a loud metallic thud.

The horse began to gallop away from the incoming danger and the Ashen One found himself in the unfortunate position of having his foot caught in the right stirrup and was being jostled left and right on the dirt ground.

Each bump on the road smashed his head into the ground, and his hands fumbled for his blades. Once his hand grasped one of the hilts, he drew the blade and swung wildly at the stirrup, cutting the saddle with a clean cut and releasing himself onto the dirt ground and violently rolling around on the ground until coming to a crude sliding stop.

The horse galloped away into the night stealing away his lantern with it, and the Ashen One lay on the ground catching his own breath in the darkness. Come on! Get Up!, his brain cursed at him; but his body felt like it had been massaged by bricks. He lazily reached for the arrow to pull it out, but the fall had snapped it clean.

"Next time" he muttered under his breath, "Aim for my _fucking_ head".

He sat up and faced the road where the arrow had come from. He could see the faint glow of torches and numerous bandits searching the woods and the road for their arrow-stricken prey. The Ashen One took a swig from his estus flask and drew one of his twin blades. He ran his hand over the blade and orange flames danced onto the silver blade with such ferocity that fire seemed to drip down onto the ground. He unsheathed his other sword and rapt his blades together, igniting the plain one with a loud clanging of metal.

No longer was the knight shrouded in darkness, not with his twin blades bursting with the crackling flames of it's magical resin. He heard the terrible whistling of an arrow and instead of backing down or rolling out of the way, he crossed his swords in front of him and separated them with a quick motion.

The arrow fell to the ground, a clean cut right down the middle of the shaft.

The Ashen One twirled his blades and broke into a sprint towards the torch light.

Now it was his turn to attack.


	3. Chapter II

Chapter II:

Attack!

The archer wasn't discouraged after seeing such a spectacle. Arrows came down left and right but the Ashen One waltzed through the air in a zigzag pattern, almost as if he were dancing with the flaming swords. The bandits saw him fly through the air and charged back at him, uttering out a war cry that made lesser men cower in fear. But they hadn't met someone who wasn't afraid of any damn war cries or the petty courage that criminals would muster.

The first bandit lunged with his longsword but the Ashen One easily knocked the blade to the side and with his other blade, made a single deep clean cut across the man's chest. The blade sliced into his gut and where blood should have been pouring was a hungry fire that spread across the bandit's body.

Before he could even watch the fiery fate of his victim he was onto the next one with the same ferocity. The Ashen One knew that this wasn't going to be a fair fight, and if he was going to come out on top he needed to make mincemeat of as many of them as possible before they got on the defensive.

Two more bandits swarmed him on two sides, their axes raised high but the knight was quicker. He spun his blades, one over the other, and presented them with parallels cuts so deep that he would have probably cleaved their upper half from their bottoms had they been inches closer.

They too, exploded into a fiery ablaze.

He turned to face his last foes, his swords burning hotter that before. The air was full of screams of burning men and with so many lights, the forest didn't seem to be swallowed in darkness any longer.

The last bandit who approached with him wielded a rusted pike. Instead of blindly charging, he hung back with the pike head keeping a good distance between the two of them.

Finally, someone who uses his head, the Ashen One thought.

The Ashen One swung at the pike to test the pike man's strength, but his grip seemed steady enough to not be overpowered. He needed the pike man to attack first if this was going to be a clean kill.

Before the Ashen One would plan any further the whistling came back. Shit! he cursed in his head as he tried to move but the arrow was too quick. It went straight through his leg and he fell to one knee, a curse slipping from his lips.

The pike man saw his chance and charged with a battle cry. The Ashen One looked up and saw the point coming and reacted.

Then the most peculiar thing happened from the eyes of the pike man. The Ashen One seemed to leap into a roll, but as his body left the ground he disappeared from sight.

It was as if he vanished from thin air.

Dazzled by the trick of the 'Carthus Milkring', he missed his mark and the Ashen One reappeared right next to him. It was all the time he needed to drive both blades into the sorry soul's chest.

He pulled the blades out of his chest by separating them in different directions and felt the warm flames emanate from the bandit's severed body. The battle was almost won, he just needed to take care of one last thorn in his side. He sprinted towards where the archer was and saw a shadow running into the dark.

The Ashen One leapt into the night, twin swords in hand, and within the minute caught up to the cowering soul….

* * *

The Ashen One returned to the pile of ashes on the road, his estus flask in hand. It wasn't as clean of a fight as he wanted, but it could have been much, much worse had they known who they were up against. There was almost nothing left of the bandits, just their weapons, torches and piles of ash where their bodies finished burning in a matter of seconds.

The Ashen One picked up their weapons, and tossed them to the side. He had no need for plain weapons made from cheap iron. He did keep the torch however, because where there are bandits, there's looted goods in a hideout.

He stumbled around the surrounding forest and eventually found a small clearing with a stream that funnelled into a cave a short walk from the road. He clambered into the cave, using the torch to explore its damp interior till he reached the end where there was a pathetic looking wooden door blocking another room.

He opened it with a forceful tug and poked his head inside, and while there were more cheap weapons, something in the corner of the little hideout caught his attention.

It was their muffled shouts that got his attention. He made his way through the rat-infested abode and kneeled down in front of one of the specimens in fine clothing and untied the rope that was around their mouth.

"Water" the man gasped and sputtered in a dry, hoarse voice.

The Ashen One would have offered but he didn't have any need to carry any. Instead, he cut the man's hands free and rushed to grab a nearby bucket and ran to the outside of the cave to fill it up from water from the stream. When he had returned, the man was in the middle of cutting the binds of the last of the three prisoners.

"I brought you water" the Ashen One spoke as he handed the bucket to the man.

The man glanced down at the bucket and with a grotesque look on his face, refused.

One of the other prisoners looked at the exchange and began to giggle and cover her face. When the Ashen One offered to give it him again, the first prisoner's face became flush and he looked away as he spoke.

"This was their ugh…. how do you say it… where they _emptied_ themselves" he said, almost ashamed to be talking about it.

Having no need to eat or drink had left other senses like the Ashen One's sense of smell somewhat dulled. It had come in handy when he needed to traverse the Farron Woods, but now it left him almost inadequate in a normal situation. Anyone else would have been acutely aware of the scent of defecation upon entering the room.

"Oh… Sorry about that" he said as he put the bucket in a corner and mentioned to the man that there was a clean stream outside the hideout for them to drink.

"N-no! It's fine! You've done a world for us already! You have no idea- we've been here for days and I thought we were going to die here. T-thank you so much!" the man said as he grabbed his hand.

The Ashen One pushed the hand to the side. It didn't feel right to make a man plead his thanks on his knees.

"It's fine. Just collect your things and get on your way" he said as he pulled his hands away.

He was about to leave when one of the prisoners called out to him. He turned around and faced his caller and noticed that it was the girl who was laughing at him before.

"Here" she said holding out a small pouch.

He graciously accepted it and opened it up, seeing a type of coin that was completely foreign to him. He assumed it was the currency they used in this land.

"I know it's not much, but… Just.. for your troubles… T-thanks" she before she quickly parted from him and went back to the other prisoners to collect whatever remained of their belongings.

The Ashen One noticed that she had been literally choking on her words, and it dawned on him that after handling the bucket, he probably smelled so foul no one wanted to be near him. He strode out of the hideout, slightly dishearten by the revelation.

* * *

When he finally reached the clearing and into the moonlight, he figured it was time for a rest. Once again, he did the ritual of gathering nearby stones and placing it in a circle close to the steam. He returned to the road and picked up the sword from one of the bandits and placed it in the centre, driving it into the dirt and extending his hand over it, kindling the flame with his own being.

He sat down comfortably by the bonfire and felt his body cleanse itself from all wounds and impurities.

There were so many questions he had about this world, but he didn't have anyone to ask. He needed to find the answers for himself, and he figured he would start with his own role in this place. He stood up, placed his hand over the sword and tried to picture himself where the first bonfire was. He closed his eyes, but when he opened them he was still in the same place.

He took his seat, confirming what he had originally thought. The moment he left his world, he lost the ability to warp between the flames. Perhaps that power was lost the moment the link between the Shrine and the coiled sword was severed. Or perhaps, it was because the bonfire wasn't using undead ash as tinder. His mind stayed on the subject for a little longer but eventually he was greeted by the prisoners exiting the cave.

"You mind if we join you? We don't want to travel at night anymore if we don't have to, not since last time" the first prisoner said as he stood near the fire.

The Ashen One gestured to the flame, welcoming the noble prisoners. The prisoners took places around the bonfire, mesmerised by the small dancing flame and the odd design.

"So… What brings you this way, friend?"

The Ashen One considered recounting the tale of a mad, lost soul who woke up in a hellish world filled with pain and suffering, a world held together by a dimming flame that refused to go out, and how he was supposed to lead champions worthy of the flame back to the Kiln to return to ash once more. But such a tale would be probably raise more questions than it would answer. So, he just raised his head, looked into the flame, and spun a lie about a traveling swordsman from a far off land who's off to find glory wherever it may be.

A half lie in all honesty.


	4. Chapter III

Chapter III:

Ylisstol

The frigid air cut at her skin; a world of dark pain was all she had ever known. But that was because light wasn't something they were supposed to see, only something they were supposed to feel with their very soul. She waited by the empty circle when she first heard his footsteps.

She never told him, but when he took those first timid, frightened steps into her abode, she smiled for the first time in a very, very long time. She turned her head, looked up at her champion and listened intently as he took each, bare step into the basin of the cavern. His feet seemed so frail, like a child born and thrown from the womb's warmth.

She didn't even have to tell him anything, it was almost like they had a shared instinct. He walked over to her and laid down the key of her work, the cornerstone of their legacy right into the middle. From where the Chosen Unkindled placed the coiled sword emanated the first warmth she had felt since conception, and since that fateful day, the Firelink Shrine felt ever so warmer.

But was it really the warmth of the bonfire?

Or was it his touch?

* * *

The Chosen Unkindled opened his eyes to the sound of commotion all around him. The nobles that he had saved had begun to mobilise themselves for the journey back home.

"Ah! You're awake!" the soft voice of a man chimed.

"So, it would seem", he muttered as he cast his eyes all around the encampment.

Light had begun to pour in through the trees and illuminated the clearing. The nobles seemed very capable, and not as posh as he had expected them to be from their clothes. The nobleman who seemed to be in charge, whose name was Delilah, claimed that their posse numbered eight when they first left town, but the attack left them with only four members left.

"Have you given any thought to what I proposed?" Delilah cast towards the Ashen One.

Ansem remained silent. The group had suggested he join them the night before in their travels to back home to the city of Ylisstol.

"Sure. I'll join you, it's not like I have commitments elsewhere" he said as he got up while dusting his clothes, and giving his back a nice long stretch.

"Excellent! I will show you off to the other nobles and I'm sure they will be delighted to meet you" Delilah said with a cheery attitude that made the Ashen One wince underneath his helmet.

"I'm only joking! I just want to properly show you what Ylisse has to offer- and I promise, bandits aren't what Ylisse is known for".

The Ashen One paced himself next to the nobles as they began their travels north, leaving the mystical bonfire all alone in the clearing of the forest.

* * *

The rest of the trip was uneventful. The Ashen One asked about what the nobles had been doing in the woods before they were kidnapped but it turns out that they were part of a wealthy business that did negotiations all over. What was supposed to be a day long trip, had become a four-day nightmare.

"There! Do you see it!" one of the other nobleman called out from ahead of the Ashen One.

Ansem cast his glance ahead and saw it for the first time. As soon as the castle tower came into view, he sort of shrugged at the appearance of the castle.

It definitely _was_ _a castle_ , but was he filled with awe and pride like his fellow nobles were?

No.

This castle was built on the backs of humans, but the castles in his land…

They were literally built by Gods.

As they travelled The Ashen One thought he would ask Delilah about the continent they were living on. Delilah happily indulged him in history that went as far back as mentioning a great _Hero-King Marth_ , and how his decedents bore a mark of lineage that determined who could and couldn't rule the country of Ylisse from the capital of Ylisstol.

"The _kingdom_ of Ylisse was locked in a delicate truce against the neighbouring kingdom Plegia after a long holy war had ravaged the two countries-"

"Over _what_ Gods?" The Ashen One interjected.

" _Dragon_ _Gods_ "

The Ashen One shuddered at the thought. If he didn't have to fight another dragon in his life, he could die be a happy man. That is, if he could die at all.

"Well, surely there are Gods in your land?" one of the other noblewoman said, almost offended by the reaction the Ashen One had in regards to their own God, Naga.

"Sure, and they lived among us as titans. But we weren't the ones who were necessarily afraid of them".

There was a murmur through the crowd of nobles. Humans who weren't afraid of their own Gods?

That sounded ridiculous.

"The God's were more afraid of humans. So, afraid in fact, they would go to any extent to keep their age of power alight… _Anything_ " he added with a sentiment of pity and hatred.

"Just, where exactly do you come from?" the other nobleman questioned.

The Ashen One clenched his teeth. The answer didn't surface from his mind and he was left blank. He had been aligned to so many different covenants, so many orders, but if there was one place he earned allegiance of the name itself, it would be-

"Londor. I'm from Londor" he said, his heart racing as he said a truthful answer that made his own skin crawl.

* * *

Eventually, they reached the town that sprawled out beneath the caste. The town of Ylisstol housed citizens that were both extremely friendly and well fed. Delilah had mentioned that the growing upper class had been much more involved with the development of the lower classes and made sure that they would be taken care of in the form of growing socialist policies.

As they passed through the lower-class buildings, Delilah took the Ashen One aside and mentioned something important.

"If _anyone_ asks your business, just say you are under my services"

"I don't wish to be part of your politics" the Unkindled scowled, but Delilah seemed evermore anxious.

"Please!" he hissed, "Things are peaceful but tenuous my, dear friend. I'll explain more when we get to my place".

The Ashen One didn't completely understand, but as he heard the warning, he couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps his group was being watched. A quick glance from one of the nearby shop venders no longer seemed as innocent as it once seemed. He nodded towards Delilah and stayed close to the rest of the group.

As they reached newer heights, two of the members of the troop left for their own homes. Now it was just Delilah and the girl who had giggled at the Ashen One's stupidity from before. It turns out, she was Delilah's daughter but unlike her father who had grey hair, her hair was a dark black with shades of red. She didn't say anything during the travel, but she quietly listened to each exchange between her father and the Ashen One. Perhaps she didn't talk so much because her father talked quite a bit, interesting how that works, the Ashen One thought to himself as they continued past houses up towards what seemed like an infinite number of abodes and businesses.

As they passed by winding roads with slight inclines, they eventually reached a white wall with a metal gate. Seeing as how the houses on the other side seemed larger and more lavish, this most likely marked the unofficial cut off point for serious wealth in the city.

The knights guarding the gate seemed to know Delilah and his daughter but they cast concerned looks at the Ashen One, specifically one girl with red pig tails who sat on top of a wooden desk next to the gate. She motioned with her hands and three knights marched quickly to block their way. Delilah muttered a curse under his breath as the knights settled in their path.

"Don't worry, Severa. _He's_ with me" Delilah squealed as he tried to keep a calm composure.

She had on a twisted expression on her face that made the Ashen One feel as if every inch of him was being scrutinised under her watchful, demeaning eyes. He was careful not to even make contact with her eyes, fearing that he might set her off.

"Another knight for your little Ferox Arena scheme?" she said in a condescending tone.

She leap off the desk and approached the knight with her arms crossed. Each step she took kicked up dust into the air and she stepped a little too close. She was trying to get a rise out of him, but the Ashen One wouldn't take the bait.

"N-no! This knight is from uh... L-Londor and is just traveling the country with my company. He's not to be interfering… _I mean_ … he won't be _involved_ in that sort of affairs" he said as he tried to get between them.

She continued to look at the Ashen One, and hummed a hum of disapproval.

"This is some pretty menacing looking armour; do all knights of Londor try to compensate as much as you do?" she said mockingly.

The Ashen One clenched his fists. Do all knights of Ylisse run their mouth's as much as you do? he thought in his head. He hoped she didn't ask where Londor was, because he wasn't exactly sure she would buy his answer.

She stood there measuring herself up to him for a few seconds more before she backed away. She gestured for the knights to get out of their way and she went over to her desk.

"You're free to go" she said feigning a sweet voice without even looking at them.

Delilah counted his blessings and grabbed the Ashen One by the arm to beckon him to move along as fast as possible.

"But if your friend steps out of line while he's in my walls" Severa said in a cruel tone.

"I'll show him what a knight who doesn't have to compensate can do".

Oh, it'd be my fucking pleasure, the Unkindled thought in his head.

He wondered how satisfying it would be to punch that pale face of hers with a good right hook. But before he could lose his cool Delilah tugged at his arm and he followed him away from the red headed knight and up the road.

"He'll be just fine! Don't worry, Severa!" Delilah called back, his relief literally pooling out of his mouth.

As soon as they were out of hearing range the Ashen One spoke his mind.

"What was her problem? She only glanced at me _once_ and she tried to pick a fight with me!" he hissed at his spineless friend.

"I'm so sorry Ansem, it's just that, well-" Delilah scratched his head as he thought carefully of the words he was going to use.

"-wall duty is considered a relegation among the Shepards, so she's not exactly happy to be there. She's been picking fights all week hoping that Chrom will place her off wall duty, but so far she hasn't been lucky".

"So, she gets restless when she isn't fighting? God, what-a-shame" the Ashen One said condescendingly.

"For once we may agree. I just wish she was as compassionate as her mother" Delilah said with a defeated sigh.

They finally approached Delilah's manor, which was roughly a stone's throw from the castle itself. The sandstone structure which towered at three stories high was adorned with fountains, a small garden out front and an impressive looking door that bore the symbol of Delilah's family on it. The sun had begun to set and light seemed to dance off the windows of all the adjacent houses.

For a human built settlement, it wasn't all too bad; Ansem thought as he turned his gaze to the towering castle above him. He couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, someone from the castle was watching over them with an unceasing attention to detail.

As they approached the door, it suddenly flung open. An impressive looking woman stood in the door way with her arms crossed and a grim look in her face. Delilah let out an involuntary squeal but his daughter seemed to beam at the sight of her.

"Four days!" she screamed in to the air, "Four days and not even a single letter the whole time! You take our daughter on a day's trip and you're gone for _four whole days_! I almost had the entire Ylisse army up and about looking for your sorry ass and I-"

Her eyes settled on the strange dark knight in battle torn clothing. She didn't seem embarrassed but she second-guessed herself; that maybe it was inappropriate to chastise her husband in the presence of a guest. The Ashen One sensed this and raised his hands, pulling himself out of the situation.

"By all means, continue! Don't let me get in the way between a wife and her husband".

She grinned a devious grin and eyed her husband with a look so fierce that the Ashen One _almost_ felt bad for his companion.

 _Almost_ …

* * *

The lecture lasted till the sun had set. The Ashen One was introduced to the fiery young lady as Anna, a famous merchant tycoon who had married Delilah cementing a relationship between his own massive caravan system and her own shops. Out of all her sister's, she was the only one who considered settling down.

After Delilah had heard enough and Anna embraced her daughter with wet eyes, she lead the Unkindled to a decent sized guest room and said that they would let him spend the night and figure out where to go the next day. The bedroom was decently furnished and even had its own bath in the corner of the room.

"There's some clothes in the closet, I'm sure you'll want to wash up after such a long journey" she said as she laid new sheets on the small bed in the corner of the room,

"So yeah, take your time and dinner should be ready by then".

The Ashen One thanked her, she seemed eager to know more about the saviour of her husband but the Ashen One didn't really seem too enticed to relay the whole story. Regardless of his own feelings, he would appease his hostess as much as he could.

When Anna had finally left the room, the Ashen One went over to the window of the room and drew the blinds closed. He turned on the lantern in the room and made sure the door was locked. He stood the middle of the room, and for the first time since he arrived, began to disrobe.

Ever since he drew out his true strength, he shuddered every time at the thought of his own appearance. He took off his gauntlets and saw his own, bony, shrivelled, and discoloured hands. He took off his helmet and armour and stood in the mirror, seeing his disfigured body that petrified even his own senses. He was deplorable. But it was something he would have to live with.

It was part of his curse.

He reached into his bottomless box and drew out a small, grey cube with a skull on it. He consumed it by crushing it in the palm of his hand, feeling a burning hot sensation envelop his limbs. He closed his eyes, filling himself with the feeling before casting his eyelids open.

His skin no longer looked so revolting and his face seemed to suddenly fill with vigour. His hair was well kept, his facial features free from the withered look of hollowing. But his eyes, his eyes carried a stare of a soul so old and so tired, they looked like they belonged to some elder centuries old.

He placed his armour in his bottomless box and slid into the clothes Anna mentioned were in a small wooden armoire. He turned to the mirror, the white long sleeved clothes and noble pants made him look like one of the locals. But he didn't like it at all.

He felt vulnerable. God knows how easy it would be kill him in something so thin.

But there was no denying that he looked… domesticated…

He lightly chuckled at the idea of being a typical civilian, turned to the door, and went down to make an appearance to his host and hostess.

* * *

Delilah and his troop getting kidnapped was the most interesting public political fact in the last year or so. The leader of the Shepards, Chrom, was doing a fair job as Exalt and the Shepards manned posts all over Ylisse. Suffice to say that on paper, the country was in a state of peace that was unprecedented for decades.

The fact that there was a bandit group was the most unbelievable part, well, that or the fact that there was a knight who came from a distant land who happened to be close by. Although, when the time came to explain the awkward encounters between the Ashen One and a certain bucket of shit, Anna filled the room with a laughter so loud and genuine it made the Ashen One crack a smile.

"So, tell me, good knight" Anna said, her index finger pressed lightly under her chin; "Where do you _really_ come from?"

He was drinking a strong tea that Anna made him, but he pulled the tea cup away to answer the question seriously.

"I'm not sure what you want to hear… Do you want to hear the lie's I've been telling everyone as I've been traveling around, or do you want the truth?" he played coyly.

"I want the whole truth… I want to know how you came through the Out Realm Gate?" she said, her eyes full of curiosity.

He suddenly felt a tinge of concern run down his spine. He hadn't told anyone that he came through the Out Realm Gate... But he quickly returned to his calm state. There was no way she was from his world and understood the circumstances that brought him here. She was probably making a clever inference- damn, how did this woman marry such an aloof man? the Unkindled thought.

Was it just for business or was it for something else?

As she spoke there was a loud, confident knock at the front door. Anna stood up with a jolt-

"Ah! So sorry, I forgot to mention that I invited some people over that I thought you'd want to meet" she said, hurrying over to the door.

The Ashen One's eyes rose to meet the opening door, eyeing the two figures who entered the room. One of them was wearing a bright white robe and the other one was wearing an onyx robe with purple lines that ran along the waist and arms of the robes. Their hoods were drawn to mask their appearance.

"You guys are early! Did something happen?" Anna said as she met with her guests who seemed to know each other fairly well.

"You could say that" the one in the black robes sighed, "The _Exalt_ decided that the meeting was getting a little too boring and decided that Ferox's political turmoil could wait till tomorrow".

The black hooded figure tossed the hood off revealing a tall, slender woman with white hair. Her gold eyes seemed to stare all around the room, inspecting every inch of the place before letting a content smile appear on her face.

"Wow, Anna! This place looks fantastic!" she said admiring the interior decoration.

"I know right!? I guess tending the tents in the army somehow translated to having good housing skills" she said laughing whole heartedly.

"What do you mean _I_ decided it was getting a little too boring! We had been there for four hours and still didn't come up with anything substantial" a man's gallant voice boomed from the white robes.

The girl turned around, while rolling her eyes in annoyance. Apparently the two had been arguing for quite some time.

"Believe it or not _Your Majesty_ , being a tactician in peaceful times takes far longer than planning for a single battle. We are _not_ going to muck this up by not being pragmatic in our decision".

"Still, I thought that after weeks of travel your spies would have at least come up with a better solution".

The man threw off his hood, revealing a handsome but tired face. His blue hair seemed regal in every way and the way he carried himself made it very clear that he was of nobility.

"Anyways, we'll leave that for the courts" the girl said, pushing the subject aside, "where is this _man_ I've been hearing about? Is that him?" she said, her eyes making contact with the Unkindled.

"Yep, that's the one" Anna confirmed as she took the blue haired man's coat and hung it up on a rack next to the door.

The white-haired girl marched towards the Ashen One and stopped a few feet from him. She observed him up and down with her arms crossed, her serious face full of pensive thoughts made the Unkindled One feel like an experimental rat in front of her.

Once she was done examining him, she extended her arm.

"Hello Ansem, my name is Robin. I hope we didn't come by _too_ early. I am the Exalt's counsellor and war tactician" she said, the same warm smile that she addressed Anna with slid on her face.

It was disarming, but he recovered and the Ashen One reached out to shake her hand. Her grip was surprisingly firm.

"And that man over there" she said, pointing to the blue haired man who had entered the house with her; "Is the Exalt himself, Chrom of Ylisstol".

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry this chapter took longer than usual to edit. It just didn't feel right to break this chapter up, so it's longer than usual. Also, I won't do other a/n's, unless people want them.


	5. Chapter IV

Chapter IV:

Chrom

The Ashen One rose to meet the Exalt of the country. The Exalt was quick to extend his hand, to which the Ashen One received feeling the tight grasp of a man with power.

"I'm glad you didn't bow, I'm tired of everyone treating me like I'm some sort of deity who needs to be worshiped" the warrior-king pronounced as he released the Unkindled's hand.

Something about the humbleness of the Exalt may have resonated somewhere inside the Ashen One. Perhaps it was because it was a quality that he himself didn't have, or just one that was so uncanny that he felt drawn to such a person.

"You can't be of help to somebody if you spend all day staring at their feet" Ansem responded with a grin.

Chrom let out a laugh.

"Don't let my counsel hear you say that. They might behead you right on the spot" he said as he took one of the seats at the table across from Ansem.

Robin hung up her coat and made her way to the table between the two men.

"Glad to see you two are getting along. I was afraid that Chrom might come off as a bit _overbearing_ at first" Robin sighed as she took a seat right next to her Exalt.

Chrom looked visibly annoyed at her chatter but didn't come back with a retort of his own.

"So what do you think about Ylisstol? She's been through a lot but I think that she is looking better than ever" the Exalt asked as he faced the Ashen One.

"It's the first functioning city of people that I've ever seen, so I can't compare it to anything else. But, judging by the state of the citizens, I would say it's a town where the people are at the very least happy to be a part of it".

Chrom allowed a warm smile to spread on his face. He turned to his companion and as he did so, he seemed even more happy.

"You hear that Robin?"

"You know you could have asked literally anyone around and they would've given the exact same answer" Robin said with a half-cocked smile.

"That the point! He's not _from_ around here, and even he understands that keeping people happy is the key to running a city. Major economic developments can wait, as long as my people are happy, then I know we're on the right track" he said, his beaming smile showing some wrinkles on the edge of his mouth.

From the corner of the room, the Ashen One watched as Delilah took his daughter upstairs. All this parlour was fun, but it was soon going to be time for the adults to talk.

"Sure, but we have to remember to give incentive to the people to work. Socialism makes people happy, but too much of it will make the people overly complacent" Robin said, playing devil's advocate to Chrom's heartfelt point.

Anna returned to the table with a kettle and served the two new guests. She too took a seat and listened to the two bicker about their job until finally her husband came down stairs giving her a nod that his duty was performed.

"I think it's time we get down to business" Robin announced as she eyed Delilah making his way to the table, "I'll let you start, Ansem. I'm sure you have numerous questions for us".

* * *

Ansem looked at the white haired maiden. His heart was burning to know many things but he would ask only the pertinent questions.

"How is it that you came to know about who I was before I came to hear about you?"

Robin took a deep sigh.

"That's a good question. You probably didn't know this but we've" she motioned to herself and Chrom "gone through the gate multiple times, and since that started, other beings and creatures from other worlds have entered ours".

"So you're were letting people come in and out of this world and settle in it? That seems pretty unsafe" the Unkindled retorted.

"It's _extremely_ unsafe, which is precisely why we built a whole fort around the gate and whole unit which is garrisoned inside it" Chrom said as he crossed his arms.

The Ashen One frowned slightly, he had a vague idea where this conversation was heading.

"We have a crow letter delivery system set up so that the army can restrain whoever comes through and let us know how dangerous or docile the visitor is. But two days ago, we received a crow that was... worrying to say the least" Robin claimed.

Robin pulled out a tiny scroll from her pocket. It clearly was a letter that one of the crows carried and she opened it up, passing it to the Ashen One. He picked it up and read it.

 _'Status: Critical_

 _Bright lights and an_

 _explosion upon arrival._

 _Some say it was_

 _something_ _that blew_

 _a hole through_

 _northern gate, but Inigo_

 _swears it was a person._

 _Will search the fields_

 _for answers but spread thin,_

 _repairs are top priority.'_

"I'm guessing your men didn't find anything?" The Ashen One spoke as he released one side of the note and let it coil itself back up.

"No, none of them did. But the next day one of the supply run leaders reported seeing a knight in black with two twin blades heading north. A sword that he had traded for a horse confirmed that the origins of the person was not from this continent or any recorded ones in the world, and so, he must have come from the gate itself.

The Ashen One felt a little tense. He knew that the supply leader was the man he had met on the road and felt that maybe his transition into this world may have hurt some people.

Oh well, he thought, it couldn't have been helped.

"You must've flown quite a distance" Robin lightly jested.

Flown? I thought I was falling, the Ashen One thought in his head.

"Then people started reporting sights of you being in town with Delilah, and Severa confirmed this when she saw you at the gate" Chrom announced as he took a sip of his tea.

"Right. We considered sending a group from the Shepards to apprehend you in the castle district, but you seemed docile enough with your company so we decided to come and interrogate you in person rather than haul you back to the gate" Robin said with a serious tone on her face.

"Anna came to us after she let you into her guest room. We filled her in on what we knew and she decided she'd let us use her house for this special occasion. Really, you should be thanking her we decided to come by, I wouldn't have taken any chances with you but she trusted you" she eyed her friend, "and I trust her".

The Ashen One glanced over at Delilah and Anna for a brief moment. He couldn't believe that maybe the one thing that saved him from being attacked by these 'Shepards' was the connection between Delilah and Anna, and through Anna's ties to the Exalt himself.

Some might have called it fate, but the Ashen One chalked it up to just a stroke of luck.

"So then there's a procedure to all of this?" Ansem asked meekly.

"Yes there is, but don't worry, it's not a one sided interrogation. You have my word on that" Chrom assured the Unkindled.

"So that's all we know about you, but we hope that by the end of the night, we'll know precisely who you are and what you're doing here" Robin said with conviction.

The Unkindled winced with chagrin. This woman wouldn't be satisfied with half assed answers. But he owed them some semblance of honesty, after all, they had been very forthright with him so far.

"All right" he said as he crossed his arms.

"Shoot".

* * *

Robin's face locked itself in a serious expression and Chrom's easy expression turned into an intent stare.

"First of all, where did you come from?"

The Ashen One burst out with a laugh that was so bewildering that it made the whole room go quiet with terror. Robin slightly recoiled back into her chair, but Chrom seemed to become ever more serious.

"Is something _supposed_ to be funny?" Chrom asked.

"No, nothing is at all. I was even expecting that question but I never realised how complicated it would be for me to answer it" the Ashen One said as he composed himself.

He cleared his throat.

"The land I came from, at the time I left, was called _Lothric_ ; a dying land that went by many names as it teetered on the edge of darkness during the last days of the First Flame".

Chrom raised an eyebrow at the statement, but Robin's reaction was completely different. Her eyes widened with excitement, beckoning the Ashen One to tell her more.

"I thought you said you were from a place called Londor?" Delilah interjected.

"I did, and it was a half truth depending on how you look at it" the Ashen One explained.

"In Lothric, it's common to follow up your name with a title or the land that you serve. So Chrom would be 'Chrom of Ylisstol', not just because he is _of_ the city, but because he _serves_ the city"

The Ashen One continued, "I do not have a place of origin, because I am what is called an Unkindled. But I served the land of Londor, earning the title like a native of the land. I'm sorry if I deceived you, Delilah, but it was the easiest way to answer your question earlier today.

"Okay, okay, okay slow down Ansem" Robin said as she pulled out a small book and using a quill she had in her robe, began to scribble things down at a rapid pace.

"What about your technology? Is there magic in your land?" Chrom asked as he leaned in towards his advisor to see her notes.

"Nothing that I haven't seen in this land. But the rules of this land are vastly different" the Unkindled pointed out.

"Rules? Wait, stop… Go back a bit" Robin said, her mind racing at lighting speed.

"What is this First Flame you mentioned and why is it so important?"

* * *

The interrogation had been going on for hours now, but only the icing on the cake had been explained. He had barely covered the Age of Ancients to the Age of Fire, and Robin had literally written numerous pages on the matter of the origins of Ansem's world. By the time the Ashen One came to the War with the Everlasting Dragons, Anna and Delilah had become so stricken with sleep they bade their good nights and went up to their bedroom.

"With the flame fading, and the failure of the Witch of Izalith, Gwyn feared what the pygmies would become when their Age of Fire passed, so he used his own soul and body as kindling for the flame, extending the Age of Fire".

"A noble thing to do. It sounds like he was looking out for his people and ensuring his Age of Light would continue" Chrom said, still paying attention.

"That's one way to think of it… but-"

"No, he could have done it because he was afraid that history would repeat itself. He ended the Age of Ancients and the Everlasting Dragons with his lightning and he thought his race would end with the Age of Fire. It… It was cowardly" Robin said, thinking ahead of both Chrom and the Ashen One.

"That's how I see it. The God's now feared that the 'humans' at the time would revolt against them when their age ended, but kindling the First Flame had some… interesting side effects" Ansem explained.

Chrom raised his eyebrows in bafflement.

"God, this is so confusing. I thought we were coming to hear a brief lesson on where you came from but it turns out, your land's history is more complicated than ours" Chrom said as he rubbed his eyes.

"Is the rest of the history really that important?" Robin said, lightly tapping her pen with a hint of impatience.

The Unkindled cocked his head slightly, he was just about to explain the curse of the undead too.

But did they really need to know about it?

The humans in his land corralled the first undead to the Undead Asylum, and suddenly it occurred to the Ashen One that maybe they wouldn't take this revelation so lightly. If he was imprisoned, there was no doubt in his mind he would eventually hollow, making this entire journey for naught.

"I suppose it isn't" he said calmly, watching Robin's inquisitive face with caution.

"Very well. Why did you come to this world?" Robin questioned tentatively.

"I..." he paused.

He found himself drawing a blank.

His mind wandered to the ash field, the crimson flowers and the burning hot solar eclipse in the sky. He had won the battle... But he had lost so much too.

"I found answers that I couldn't accept. And when I tried to undo what I had done, I wronged the kind of people who knew how to _hurt_ me".

 _Listen to her, Ashen One. Listen to how she wails..._

 _I made sure she knew that you betrayed her..._

 _She cursed your name as I made her bleed..._

 _And now I'll make you bleed too..._

"Did they hurt someone you cared about?" Robin asked lightly.

The Ashen One pulled himself out of his trance.

"That's all in the past now, it doesn't matter anymore" he said in a callous voice.

Robin sighed.

"You know, being cryptic doesn't make this process any easier-"

"I-I know... and I mean this with all due respect, but I just don't want to talk about something that doesn't really have any bearing on this world-"

"Unless whatever you're running from decides to come crawling after you" the tactician said with a sudden smirk.

Shit, the Ashen One thought. He hadn't even considered the possibility that he could have been followed by his own shadows. He touched his chest and felt the warmth emanating from it, if there was a functioning doorway in and out of this world, there was always the possibility _they_ would come looking. But it was small at best.

"Despite the direct nature of my friend, I'm afraid she's has all the reason in the world to ask these personal questions" Chrom spoke up, "remember, you're a guest in this world, and we hope that a guest would have the curtesy to not track dirt into our house".

The Ashen One groaned under his breath.

"I'm certain that whatever quarrels I had in my own world, they wouldn't bother chasing me here" he muttered through clenched teeth.

Chrom and Robin exchanged a glance. Chrom nodded his head and Robin responded with one seemed like a reluctant sigh.

"That's really all we needed to know" Robin breathed as she stood up from the table.

The Ashen One was surprised and glanced between the two.

"Wait, really? That's it?"

"I wish it was that easy, but the truth is, that's all _I_ needed to know. Chrom wants to have a few words with you all by himself".

She pushed in her chair and Chrom laid his eyes on the Unkindled.

"I'm sure we'll see each other soon" she said as took a curtly bow, gave Chrom a comforting one-handed pat on the shoulder, and made her way to the door.

The Unkindled remained silent as he watched the tactician leave for the door. Now it was just the two of them, a warrior-king and a knight without a liege or purpose.

* * *

The lack of conversation was slightly unnerving, but Chrom quickly broke the silence.

"Listen Ansem, I think that your story, just the beginning alone, is remarkable. I also respect your reasons for coming here, and hope that you find something that helps you cope with your own problems, but..."

Chrom glanced away briefly. The Ashen One didn't know if his honestly was his greatest strength, or his greatest weakness.

"to tell you the truth, Robin and I think we'll need someone like you in the coming weeks. I can't tell you all the details here, but the fact that you're not from around here means that you're the perfect person for the job".

Chrom stood up in the candle light, his figure emanating his confidence.

"What do you say? Care to lend this King your sword?" he asked as his face spread into a confiding smile.

The Ashen One considered it carefully. He didn't know what kind of job he wanted him to do but he was convinced it was political in nature. But then he figured that working for Chrom would give him something to sharpen his mind on, which was something he desperately needed right now.

"Of course. I think it would be nice to serve a King I've actually met in person".

"Then it is settled!" Chrome announced, "tomorrow I want you to come by the castle first thing and talk to Cordelia. She'll tell-"

"Chrom wait" the Unkindled interrupted, "I will join you under one circumstance".

Chrome's face became serious.

"That's fair, you have one demand" he said with a firm tone.

"Wait for me outside, I will meet you there" the Ashen One said as he pulled out a small jewellery box from his pocket.

Chrom seemed confused by the demand but he complied anyways. He left the front door in his robes and waited in the moonlight. He could see Robin waiting for him near the main road and she raised her eyebrows. He gave her a shrug in response, composing himself for whatever Ansem was going to do. A few more moments passed and out the front door was a peculiar knight.

His armour was onyx black which gold edges that had long since faded. The glamorous armour had seen numerous fights, and whatever scars of battle weren't visible were masked under a tattered hood. His cape was discoloured and on the very bottom were what looked like veiny dark stains that were so black they made the hairs on Chrom's neck stand up.

There was only one reason why a knight would wear his armour and approach a king. Robin approached the two and Robin gave her king a nudge on his shoulder.

Chrom turned to his tactician and saw that she had her levin sword in her hand.

The Exalt took the blade and nodded his head to his faithful friend and turned his attention to the knight in front of him. The Ashen One got on one knee, not muttering a single word. He bowed his head to the Exalt, a sign of trust, honour, and servitude; and in response for his trust, the Exalt gently tapped the knights shoulder with the jagged edge of the levin sword.

And so it was there in the moonlight underneath the Castle of Ylisstol, that the Ashen One made a covenant with the Shepards.

* * *

 **A/N** : This chapter was a little dry, but sometimes you need to set things up to let the action roll. I didn't mean for such a long wait between chapters, but I wanted some back and forth between the main characters of both games without revealing too much or turning the chapter into an exposition dump.

User Zaru asked about Ashen One's armour and the truth is, his armour is an impossible (game wise) blend of the Fallen Knight armour and the Undead Legion cape. It'll make sense eventually, but picture the Fallen Knight's armour with the abyss scars on it and that's what he has. The rest is pretty much just the generic Fallen Knight outfit. I received a few PM's basically asking about where in FE: Awakening's timeline does the story take place and I unfortunately can't reveal that for plot reasons. Sorry!


	6. Chapter V

Chapter V:

Restless

Robin opened her eyes, feeling the cold breeze coming in from the window. She rolled over to one side, wanting to go back to sleep but the cold kept her from doing so. Well if I can't get some sleep, I may as well take a walk, she thought to herself. It was probably close to morning anyways…

She pulled the sheets to the side and climbed out of bed, her bare skin seizing up slightly at the cold air around her. She quickly pulled on clean clothes and wrapped herself in her robes, she tossed her hair behind her robes and was out the door into the quiet hallways of Ylisstol Castle.

The massive hallways were excellent for her to gather her thoughts, and while she had so many things on her mind, one thing seemed to stick out. She took a deep breath and wondered what kind of work she should put the newbie through, maybe a duel with one of the other Shepards? Her plans for him wouldn't work if he isn't half decent with his blades.

She wandered in thought for a bit longer before she suddenly felt the watchful eyes of an innocent onlooker. She could hear her quiet breathing and her shy movement from a distant.

Robin smiled at the cute wanderer, knowing that one day, she would make a fine woman who was strong in her conviction and more importantly, challenged her fate.

"Having trouble sleeping Lucina? she called out coyly, not looking behind her.

Only silence answered her at first, but then her soft voice called out.

"…yes" she squeaked from behind her.

Robin turned around and saw the shy girl following her. Her tiny blue eyes beamed with life and her blue hair was lush. She quickly caught up to the older woman and looked down at the ground, ashamed that she was caught following her.

"I-I heard you wake up and I wanted to see what you were going to do this early in the morning…" she admitted reluctantly, her pale face turning a tinge of red.

"S-sorry!" she stammered out, hiding her face from Robin.

Robin squatted down to meet her level and patted her head. She rustled her hair and looked at her eyes.

"It's quite alright. In fact, I think I need an escort to accompany me to where I'm going; a weapon less maiden like me shouldn't wander alone in the dark castle".

Lucina looked distress at this news.

"Are you scared of the dark too, Aunt Robin?"

Robin suppressed her laugh and fought to maintain her serious face.

"Of course! Would you please accompany me?"

Lucina trembled slightly in her tiny shoes. But her face tried to look as serious as possible.

"I'm a little inexperienced as a princess, and even less so as a warrior… B-but I will get my sword and-"

Robin's face couldn't hide her amusement.

"There's no need, Lucina. I have one right here"

She opened her robe and drew her levin sword. She slowly handed it to the little girl and she took it graciously, her face scrunching into a serious look.

"I-I'll do my best, Aunt Robin!" she squeaked.

Robin laughed lightly and embraced the girl with a swift quick movement. Lucina hugged her back, whispering that she would protect her from the dark.

"One thing though" she said into her ear.

"Yes, Aunt Robin?"

"Please don't tell your father I gave you a sword, and _especially_ not your mother. She wouldn't let me stay here again if she found out" Robin laughed.

* * *

The lady and her escort wandered down to the main kitchen of the castle with Lucina guiding Robin through the castle. Lucina seemed terrified of the dark, but she held the sword in one hand and held Robin's hand with the other. While she was busy keeping watch, Robin perused the cabinets for the ingredients she needed.

Robin began to boil water in a kettle, and as she did so Lucina patrolled the kitchen in search of dark ne'er-do-wells. Robin covered her mouth as she watched the cute little Lucina wander around, her face locked in a serious gesture in an attempt to comfort her aunt when in reality, Robin was neither her aunt nor in need of aid.

She finished brewing the tea and collected two mugs. She filled them close to the brink, put sugar and honey in them, and then put a tinge of milk in Lucina's cup to make it cooler for her to drink.

"Come over here, Princess! We're going outside" she called out to Lucina.

Lucia scampered over to her, the levin sword held firmly in both hands. Her tiny nobles cape flapped in the air, making her movements look majestic in nature, despite her extremely young age. The two exited out onto a balcony that overlooked the rich manors of the upper class of Ylisstol. The sun had yet to come out from the horizon, but the sky was slowly turning it's comforting blue.

Robin took a seat on a table near the railing of the balcony and Lucina took a seat across from her.

"You didn't _really_ need someone to escort you, did you?" Lucina asked slightly disheartened.

"No, I needed someone. I felt much more safer with you by my side Lucina" she said sipping her tea.

"Now drink up, it's important that you get strong when you're younger so that when you're old like me, you'll be a strong woman" she said, smiling down at the girl.

Lucina nodded her head and took the mug, drinking heartily from the mug.

Her face lit up.

"It's amazing! How did you-"

"Aunt Robin knows a thing or two" she winked at the girl.

The girl looked at her father's friend with awe and wonder. Whenever she spent time with her, she always seemed to get more and more impressed with the woman. Lucina wondered if all of her father's friends were as wise and mysterious as her, and if one day, if she was lucky, she would become as awesome as her aunt.

"You're not _that_ old" she muttered so quietly that Robin didn't hear it, feeling her admiration grow.

* * *

Robin glanced down to the streets, some of the upper class business owners were making their way to their jobs. She eyed Anna's house and saw a knight clad in dark armour venture out of the front door and make his way to the castle entrance.

She frowned at his appearance. She couldn't shake the idea that he was hiding something terrible- she just knew it. But why?

"Is something wrong, Aunt Robin?" Lucina peeped as she saw Robin's face contort itself with stress.

Robin looked to Lucina and smiled lightly. Robin pondered on whether or not Lucina could offer some insight on the man. It was a long shot, but sometimes a child sees the truth in things, devoid of all prejudices and past judgements.

"Do you see that black knight down there?" Robin said as she looked down at the man.

Lucina hoped down from the chair and cautiously looked over the railing.

"Where?"

"Over there, the one who has the twin swords on his sides" Robin said, pointing with her finger.

Lucina scanned the crowd until she finally saw the knight who stuck out amongst the nobles like a crow in a crowd of swans. Robin carefully watched the little girl's face as she formulated an opinion.

"He looks strong, and a little bit scary too. Is he one of father's?" she said, not taking her eye off of the knight.

Robin slid off her chair and casually leaned on the railing next to Lucina.

"I get to decide that later today. What do you think about that, Princess?" Robin inquired.

The little girl swallowed hard. The two of them watched the knight from afar as she thought about a proper answer. The knight stopped in his tracks, he was looking at something in the distance. Robin followed his gaze, and saw that he was staring intently at a couple who were holding hands as they went into the city. They weren't looking at each other, it was the sort of complacent, comfortable hand holding that couples did after being married for some time.

He looked at them for a few seconds more before continuing towards the castle.

"I think he's a little bit lonely" Lucina said as she watched him leave her sight.

Robin shrugged. She honestly wanted some confirmation bias from the little girl but instead only received more reason to pity him. Yet until she knew about his troubles, there was no way she was going to let anyone in the Shepards open up to him. It could cause serious troubles.

"You two are up early" a gentle voice called from behind the two.

Lucina and Robin spun to face the illusive voice. Fucking shit!, Robin screamed in her mind. How does she always sneak up on me? The woman in front of her had a slender figure, her dark braided hair had some strands of stressful white. The Queen always had this elegant aura around her that made her calm and collected at all times.

"Sumia!?" Robin spoke in surprise.

"Yes, that's me I supposed. What are you two doing watching over the people of the city?"

Robin rolled her eyes.

"I didn't know I wasn't allowed to-"

"-and I didn't say you weren't. In fact, I think that this view is perfect for clearing the mind" Sumia interrupted.

She approached her daughter and looked at the sword that was in her hands. She gave Robin a disapproving glance and Robin looked away, pissed that she was caught.

"Lucina, give your Aunt back her sword and get back to your room. Mother and Robin need to have a nice little chat" she said, her face looking grim.

Lucina knew better than to disobey her mother, so she put the sword on the table, and ventured back into the castle. She glanced back at Robin before she slipped back inside, and mouthed the words 'I'm Sorry!'. She disappeared out of sight, and Robin braced herself for the lecture of the week.

* * *

 **A/N** : Figured it's time we got some context on the time line, and this chapter should suffice. Lucina is probably my favourite character in all of Awakening (I know, it's extremely unoriginal) so being able to write about a younger version of her (roughly around 6-8 years old) was refreshing, especially compared to the borderline cynical view of the tactician. I also wanted to clear up that Robin and Chrom aren't a couple, take that how you will; but seeing how Robin reacts to Sumia in a submissive role but tries to be defiant behind her back probably says a lot.

I probably wrote 4 scenarios where the Ashen One looked at different things in the town, but I felt that the one I chose with him seeing a complacent couple had the most weight behind it. Also it's interesting to see how he's perceived from Robin's point of view as someone who is a potential hazard to the status quo, and barely a potential ally. Next chapter we get to see what Robin has in store for the Ashen One, _if_ she escapes from the clutches of the super kind and forgiving Sumia.


	7. Chapter VI

Chapter VI:

Theatrics of War

The Ashen One calmly walked through the castle, led by the silver knight with dark red hair. The castle's inside was adorned with numerous banners with the Mark of the Exalt, which was to be expected from such a prideful kingdom.

As they passed other knights and counsel members who were conversing in the hallways, they shot him looks of bewilderment. They began to whisper amongst each other to a degree that annoyed the Ashen One more than anything.

Cordelia sighed.

"Is something the matter?" Ansem asked as he looked at the red knight.

"Hm?"

"You uh… _sighed_ "

Cordelia looked at him with a sideways glance.

"Yes, I did. I sighed because on top of the numerous problems that have been plaguing me, I have to take time out of my day to escort a stranger through the castle- so please if I seem a little on edge, _that's_ why"

The Ashen One shrugged.

"Sorry I asked" he muttered.

The two traversed the castle and finally reached a long bridge that extended out of the castle. They crossed the bridge to a large pavilion that was guarded with high walls all around. Running alongside of the base of walls was a garden of numerous flowers, making the whole place seem quite ornate. The Ashen One's eyes drew themselves to the pavilion centre.

It was a training ground.

"After the war against Grima, the Shepards became an elite knighthood, and this training ground was built so that we may have a place to hone our skill and to remember our fallen comrades".

As the two walked in the middle, Cordelia pointed to one of the walls across from the bridge entrance. There were no bushes, plants or any form of decoration, but that didn't mean the wall was left untouched.

There were scratches, marks and etches on the wall, and upon closer inspection, the marks were names written crudely onto the brick wall. The Ashen One approached the wall, and it as if he could feel a chill beneath his feet where he stood.

"Not all of them were Shepards, but each life lost in the fight against the Dark Dragon didn't deserve to be forgotten. Robin thought that people ought to forget the past and that a memorial would be pointless, but Chrom went along with it anyways, personally adding each name himself" Cordelia said, her voice unflinching.

The Ashen One didn't respond. He understood why Chrom had done it, it wasn't exactly a complicated philosophy, but the fact that he did it all by himself showed his dedication.

"But in the end, Robin was right. People forgot all about the war in just a few years, and now, people barely mention it at all. Only those stuck in the past seem to care" she said as she approached the wall and touched one of the names.

The name she had touched was carved deep. Cordelia removed her hand, revealing the name "Emmeryn". The Ashen One wondered whether the two had been close.

"My work here is done. Robin should be here soon" she said as she parted from the Unkindled and left him alone.

The Unkindled looked up at the wall, reading all the names, this must have taken weeks to write. The Unkindled backed away, feeling a tiny bit of the weight Chrom had to carry after his supposed victory.

There was a circular pit near the pavilion that had a fireplace in the middle. The Ashen One drew a sword from his bottomless box and placed it in the middle, taking the ashes of the dead fire and giving them life once more. He sat down at the bonfire, much in the same way he would back in the Firelink Shrine.

* * *

He sat in silence for about a half an hour, listening to the comforting fire. But eventually, he heard footsteps echoing from the bridge back to the castle. He raised his head to see who had come to visit him and he saw a small group being led by Robin.

Robin's face looked even more paler than the night before, and on this walk towards the Unkindled she seemed to be dreadfully lost in thought. Her eyes landed on the Unkindled and her face turned serious. The Unkindled got up from his seat at the bonfire and walked towards the middle of the pavilion, his left hand comfortably gripping his left blade's sheath.

"Good morning, Ansem. I see you're on time" Robin said as she reached the shade of the pavilion.

"I see you're late. Cordelia dropped me off here almost an hour ago"

Robin winced, but otherwise, remained composed.

"I'm not _that_ late mind you. Had I let my temper get the better of me I probably might not have been able to come at all. Now come, I want you to meet your sparring partner".

Robin gestured to one of the knights behind her. A knight presented himself in an impressive yellow regalia with furs and pads of armour reminiscent of eastern warlords. On his sides were twin samurai blades, and each step he took seem light, but not nearly as light as the Unkindled.

The man didn't offer to extend his hand, instead he put his own hands on his hips and puffed out his chest with pride.

"So! You must be the marvellous hero who travelled through space and a time to cross swords with me!? I do hope you don't disappoint! My sword hand aches to meet a challenger who is worthy!" he said aloud, his face booming with confidence.

"Pleasure to meet you" Ansem replied in a monotonous tone as he performed a dignified bow to the confident swordsmen.

The man suddenly seemed taken aback. His appearance changed to confusion as he looked at his superior, then back at the Unkindled.

"Wait…. Did you tell him about me already?" he whispered, his eyebrows raised and his chest deflating from his confident demeanour.

"Nope. I guess you're going to have to rely on more than your theatrical introductions to get an impression out of him" Robin shrugged with a light smile on her face.

"Oh! Alright then" the yellow swordsmen announced as he cleared his throat, ready to fill the role once more.

"You stand in the presences of the great Owain! Wielder of the power of the Exalt, Master of All Blades and bearer of a spirit resourced by a wellspring deeper than the rivers of time!" he boomed throughout the pavilion.

The Ashen One smiled behind his helmet. This _had_ to be the strongest man in all the Shepards. The way he seemed to ooze confident from every pore, his mastery of blades and his undying spirit. It would be an interesting match to say the least.

But something felt odd about this man, and more importantly, Robin and the rest of the unnamed knights with her seemed completely unimpressed by the man's bragging.

"Alright, alright big guy" Robin said cooling the man down, "Ansem, this is Owain. He's the nephew to the Exalt and a pretty competent "Sword Master" to say the least. All I want is to see what kind of skill you have against another swordsman".

Robin snapped her fingers and one of the other knights brought out two practice swords made of wood. The knight tossed one of the swords to Owain and the other to the Ashen knight.

"I want this fight to be clean okay? It'll go on until one of you is either knocked out or yields from the pain" She said as she moved towards the bonfire and took a seat on one of the stone seats surrounding it.

The other knights cleared the stone platform beneath the Shepard's Pavilion roof and stood on the outside, ready to watch the sparring match. Owain spun his blade, tossing his actual swords to the side. The Unkindled gently placed his twin swords on the edge of the battlefield and grabbed the wooden sword in both hands.

Ideally, he'd use two swords, but he thought it would be rude to ask for another one when his opponent seemed content with one fake blade. I suppose I'll have to go back to basics, nothing fancy, he thought as he took his place facing the yellow knight.

"Are you prepared?" Owain called out, pointing his sword out to the Ashen One.

The Unkindled his stance, holding the sword to his side while looking at his opponent.

"Come at me!"

* * *

Owain took the first attack. He charged at the Unkindled holding the sword above him, telegraphing a vertical swing. The Unkindled moved to block but at the last second, Owain's hands changed direction and swung at the Unkindled with a swipe so quick Ansem barely had enough time to adjust his own stance.

The block was anything but clean, with their blades locking and Owain's sword driving so hard that the Ashen One barely kept his own blade from hitting his own helmet. The Ashen One broke the lock by shifting his stance and using Owain's momentum to throw him off. As Owain spun around to face him, the Ashen One back peddled away, getting some distance between him and the Sword Master.

"I see you blocked my famous, 'Mortal Strike Technique'. Impressive" he said coolly as he took another stance like the one the Ashen One had taken in the beginning.

"Let's see how you fare against my 'Unyielding Astra!'".

With a battle cry, he slid towards the Unkindled with an uppercut which the Unkindled easily blocked. But Owain was relentless in his assault, slicing at Ansem with continuous strikes one after the other. After the fourth strike, the Unkindled's guard broke and Owain bashed his face in with the grip of his sword so hard that it sent the Unkindled backwards, tumbling on his rear.

The crowd of knights cheered Owain on as he retreated, his face locked in a grin.

"Now isn't the time to be sitting around, Ansem!" he jested majestically as he took his stance.

The Ashen One slowly got up and dusted his rear, taking up his sword once more. His head was slightly throbbing from the hit but Ansem knew that it was a hit he needed to take. A technique like that must have been choreographed dozens of times, and so, if he were to do the same attack again Ansem would know exactly where each one of his strikes would be.

"Tell me, knight. What kind of titles do you hold?" Owain asked as he held his blade in front of him.

The Ashen One held his stance, slowly approaching Owain with cautious steps. When they were metres apart, the two began to strafe around each other, circling around while not taking their eyes off one another.

"Too many to count, but if all goes well I might just pick up "Sword Hand Splitter". I think it has a nice ring to it, does it not?" Ansem hissed, reserving his strength for what was to come.

Some of the knights in the crowd laughed at Ansem's cheeky reply, much to the embarrassment of Owain. He scowled at the laughter and took an aggressive stance.

"You wound me with your insults, Ansem. But I fear that my blow to your head may have made you forget that you've yet to land a _single_ scratch on me" he grinned at the Unkindled.

Owain hooked his sword out in front of him. The Unkindled missed his time to retaliate, and Owain was once again being the dominate one in this dance. They danced around, Owain throwing out as many strikes as possible, pushing the Ashen One as he went.

The Ashen One broke off the attack, annoyed that Owain seemed to have an unwavering amount of stamina. Owain lunged back at the Ashen One, his strikes almost exactly reminiscent to the ones during his 'Unyielding Astra'. After a series of blows, he threw the last attack to pierce the Unkindled's guard.

The Unkindled recognised the attack and dropped his guard intentionally. He drew his left hand across his face and with an ease of movement so calculate, swiftly brushed the stab away to the left with his hand.

Owain's eyes grew tenth fold as he saw the parry come out of nowhere. His sword hand recoiled to the right, exposing his entire body for a fraction of a second.

The Unkindled moved in swiftly and his fist, landed a sucker punch right in the gut, knocking the wind out of Owain. He drew his arm back and gripping the sword with both hands, came down on his left shoulder with a force so strong he knocked the sword master onto his back.

The Ashen One lunged forward with his blade, and swung on Owain's head with a wooden thud as his practice sword made contact. The noise echoed throughout the pavilion and the hushed crowd as they watched Owain's head recoil from the strike and land on the brick floor motionless.

The battle was over.

* * *

 **A/N:** I like writing about fights.

The struggle between two souls interlocked in a quick, fierce exchange of attacks is something so amazing and I think all aspiring writers should take time to find a way how to draft up a battle. I take some inspiration from Jeff Shaara, an author who writes historical fiction novels with fights that go into some detail, but doesn't drown the reader with an overbearing about of writing. That being said, the way the Ashen One fights is methodical, slow, and often on the defensive when it comes to a singular one on one fight, so it can be a little dry. I wanted to evoke the emotion of a quick, deadly PvP match in Dark Souls, with some of the dialogue and the rules of exchange that I'm fond of in the Fire Emblem series.

Owain was perfect for this fight. He's capable, strong, and his personality clashes with the Ashen One's. Now don't get me wrong, I don't dislike Owain, I'm fond of his antics and the Swordmaster is a cool class (Astra and Swordfair are OP). But parrying is _even more_ OP, so I gave the win to the Unkindled. Now I did take some liberties with the parrying mechanic, because you technically can't parry with a sword in your right hand with a free left hand (even if it is a one handed sword). However, I think that the fact that you  can parry weapons with all weapons unequipped _but_ if you have a weapon in your right you suddenly  can't makes _no_ sense whatsoever. I get that some people prefer to go to a stance (L2 goes into the two handed stance by default unless you have a caestus equipped), but I think that parrying is way more important in a cinch. Anyways, I'll stop here before I go too far into a rant about DS3.

To answer some reviewer questions and concerns, there have been many speculations on the scenarios and people involved in the flashbacks that the Ashen One has been having and its amazing how close to the mark people have guessed. I'm tempted to address people specifically, but I don't want to give any clues outside the written story, so for now I'll abstain. Sorry!


	8. Chapter VII

Chapter VII:

Un-Naturally Political

"Brady! Get Owain back on his feet" Robin barked at one of the hunched over knights watching the match.

Brady jogged over to the knocked out Owain and placed his staff over his body. Already he could see the large bruise forming on his forehead and on the brick pavement was a light tinge of blood.

Light emitted from the staff and a magic circle appeared beneath Owain. Within the minute, Owain opened his eyes. They stared aimlessly at the sky, blinking like a baby, but eventually his senses came to and he focused on the scarred face of his healer.

"He brushed my sword hand out of the way like it was a leaf in the wind, Brady" he muttered in disbelief.

Brady grinned. Had the knight wounded Owain's pride?

"It was just a fluke, now get the hell up before you get an earful from the commander".

Brady extended his arm, offering it to Owain who gripped it. He pulled him off the ground and the two looked over to the knight Robin had called 'Ansem'.

Everyone knew that he had come from the Outer Realm Gate, and this 'test' of Robin's only confirmed that he's a force to be reckoned with. No doubt he'll be sent to _seal the deal_ , Brady thought as he returned to the rest of the Shepards.

By the time the two regrouped, Ansem and the tactician were locked in a discussion.

"-I get that I said, _'till one of you is knocked out'_ but please, next time there is a sparring match, try not to give my knight brain damage" Robin said crossly.

The black knight bowed his head.

"My apologies. I let my reflexes get the better of me" he responded earnestly.

Robin looked around at the other knights. Uneasiness ran amongst the crowd like a disease. Many of them saw Owain as a strong fighter, one of the knights who fought in the Fell Dragon War.

To see such a defeat from a stranger, was downright shocking.

"Knowing how to fight by yourself isn't enough though, Ansem" Robin called out, raising her voice so that Brady and Owain could hear.

"Being a key member of this knighthood means knowing about the strength of working together as a team. It doesn't matter what kind of strength someone holds; a well supportive duo will be able to undo strength of any singular opponent. You would do well to learn this truth and to abandon your cold tendencies towards the other Shepards".

Robin cast a look of confidence amongst her knights.

"I think we all can agree that this law of pairing up goes without challenge".

The crowd mustered some confidence as Robin finished her little speech.

Even Brady knew that this was an uncontested truth, pairing up had saved his life countless times on the field of battle. He grinned as Robin brought morale up with nothing more than reaffirming a truth that everyone already knew.

The black knight looked around and lowered his practice blade. Robin glanced at him and gestured with her neck for him to take centre stage. It was only proper for him to make an introduction after his performance. He nodded and slowly trudged next to her.

"As you all have probably heard by now, I am not from this world" he began as he took off his helmet.

Brady was shocked at the appearance of this man. His face wasn't at all distinguished, it was plain with well kempt hair and a short-trimmed stubble. He expected someone covered with scars and deformations with the experience he fought with, but saw probably the most untouched face in the Shepards, hell, the entire Ylisse army!

"But I, Ansem of Londor, made a covenant with Chrom, as you all did in a sense, to serve him. I have never taken any oath lightly, and as long as this covenant exists, my swords and my skills belong to everyone".

He glanced over to Owain, his eyes were… odd. They seemed to wander like an old man's set of eyes.

"You fought well, Owain. I hope that in battle, we can work together in _jolly cooperation_ " he said as he grinned at the yellow Swordmaster.

Owain raised his sword hand.

"If you continue to fight better than you make speeches, you will always find a place on the battlefield next to me." Owain said with a smile.

"To Ansem, our newest arrival!" he called out, rallying the other knights into a cheer.

"Hear, hear!" they shouted one after the other.

Robin seemed to grimace at Owain's trust of the knight and celebration of his official joining. Brady watched as she proceed to take the stage away from Ansem and make a statement.

"Alright, alright. No need to make a racket, you're all dismissed for the day. Except for Ansem, Owain and Brady- yes you too. You need to properly heal up Owain, I can still see some blue on his forehead".

Brady couldn't hide his contempt for being singled out. He grimaced at the tactician but didn't' dare vocalise his concerns about her decisions. The four of them gathered by the fire that was standard for communal meetings at the Shepard's Pavilion.

Robin took a seat on one of the benches. She looked at the other knights one by one, analysing them before speaking.

"Brady, I haven't seen much of Maribelle, how is she?" she said, her attitude shifting to her caring side.

"Mother? Oh, she's doing just fine. We haven't been talking much because she's well, too be honest I'm not quite sure. She's been a little moody lately so I figured it's best to leave her and father along" he said as he took a seat next to Owain.

Robin let out a low murmur of understanding. It wouldn't be long till mom and dad had a _Brady_ of their own.

Ansem settled on a different bench, staring into the flame. Brady looked at the fire and saw that there was a charred black sword in the middle of the fireplace standing up lightly to the side.

Was that decoration always there? Last I checked this fire place was cold, he thought to himself.

He shook himself free of distraction. He had to heal Owain as soon as possible or else, God forbid, his face get some scars on it.

* * *

Robin took a moment and stared into the flame before she began to speak.

"Do you remember how you mentioned that your world operated by different rules, Ansem?" she questioned as she watched the flickering fire.

The knight nodded his head, his tired eyes watching the tactician intently.

"Well, after the war, The Shepards thought it was up to us to safeguard the rest of the world and the surrounding continents. We've tried to ensure peace by sending knights of ours all over the world as emissaries to all the surrounding regions".

Ansem stared blankly at the tactician with confused eyes.

"Come again?" he said lost in oblivion.

"Have I lost you?" she said, scratching the back of her head.

"Most definitely" he said earnestly, "I don't even know what an emissary is nor what they are supposed to do".

Robin looked at him with blank eyes. Was he serious? Had his own world of Gods and Everlasting Dragons never played with the art of diplomacy? She took time to explain how an emissary was an agent from a different country which not only stood as a symbol of peace, but also acted with their country's interests in mind.

"So, a spy?" Ansem questioned, his eyes eager to learn.

"If need be, they could report on the political surges of the country. But so far almost every nation has been willing to partake in setting up embassy exchanges. _Almost_ every nation" Robin accented.

"But so far, there has been one nation which, ironically has been Ylisse's closest ally before, that refuses to follow suit"

"So, what? Don't they have sovereign right to rule?" Ansem questioned.

Robin crossed her arms. How could she explain to him that what they were doing was for the best of the nation, no, the _whole_ world.

"Of course they do, Ansem. But we want to create a unity of nations, where the only battlefield is a conference table- not some open field waiting to become a graveyard".

Robin knew in her heart this was the way to go. The first step towards real progress, would be to find a way to end all petty wars before they ever began.

Robin looked over to the wall that Cordelia had shown Ansem with dulled eyes. Robin's left thumb groped down to her ring finger, her ring of matrimony felt heavier than it had ever felt before.

"Let me put it to you this way, Ansem" she said, not taking her eyes off the wall.

"We just ended our own war with the Gods, finishing their battle and putting up with their feud. But that's all over now, the world _belongs_ to us. We have all sacrificed for this new age and..." she said, remembering the faces of all her fallen comrades.

"and if we fall back into the sort of revolving cycle of war and peace that nations eventually do, nothing will change. But if we create this overarching society, a society of diplomacy, then we break the cycle once and for all and we start something anew".

Ansem looked into the fire, his face erupting into a smile. Something had come over the knight that made Robin slightly uneasy.

"A revolving cycle huh?…" he muttered under his breath.

Ansem glanced up at the garbed tactician, his eyes full of purpose.

"What do I have to do?"

Robin nodded her head, almost like she had to convince herself of what she was going to say before she said it.

"You're going to be our champion when we fight at the Ferox Arena".

* * *

 **A/N** : It's honestly frightening how you can draw parallels with your eyes closed between Fire Emblem and Dark Souls.

I know deep down that Robin would have tried to do this after the events of Awakening. Someone with an analytical mind who wanted peace would be the sort of mind to lead the world down a path of international diplomacy. If you're an optimist, you would say that this is the way to negotiate world peace; and if you're a pessimist, you would say that this leads to an age of espionage and to the Fire Emblem equivalent of a real world Cold War. Whatever you chose, one thing is for certain: No more Great Wars. Of course, we have the luxury of seeing what lies down this path, Robin does not.

I also wanted to point out that the 'Future Children' from this time line are starting to be 'conceived', which is weird for the Future Children who have remained. This was alluded to from Cordelia's concerned behaviour and Brady's comment of his mother. Brady also took the spotlight in the first half, giving fresh perspective on the subject matter and I think it is important to do every so often. Everyone is different, so everyone sees something with their own intimate touch to the story.

Now onto Review Responses:

To the guest who commented about the Dark Souls PvP techniques, I love you, you cheeky lad. I should have just had Ansem R1 spam like a real player haha!

To Zaru and FritoDorito, all Dark Souls references are appreciated. They make me chuckle when I should be working.

To Simple405, I looked into HEMA and was blown away. I spent the better part of the day reading about it and couldn't help but feel like your comment was insightful. I will message you privately with more detail because I could probably double my chapter length just in response to your critique, but that would be overbearing for the A/N.

I threw in something to do with Robin and her wedding ring. I will let that settle in and not make mention of it for plot reasons. Sorry!


	9. Chapter VIII

Chapter VIII:

Champion of Ash

The Ashen One spent three days training with the other Shepards underneath the watchful eyes of both Robin and Owain. During the day, Owain sought to improve the technicality of his fighting style.

According to Owain, Ansem's fighting style was methodical in thought but when it came working with someone else, someone who was as vocal as Owain, they didn't exact complement each other.

"Hold on to your blades like _this_ so that you can change the angle of your strikes and fool your opponents" Owain coached, but Ansem wasn't having it.

"Who gives a _shit_ how I hold my swords? They're my damn swords" he cursed in frustration.

They were in the middle of a sparring match with another duo, and despite being in a middle of a fight, they still could divert enough energy to arguing.

"Because you fight like a _savage_ , it's embarrassing! It's almost like you've never been trained how to use those things before-"

"I wasn't" Ansem interjected.

He was avoiding another knight who was swinging at the Unkindled. He deflected an attack with one sword and with the practice blade in his other hand, hit the knight in the rib. With his other sword, he dashed towards him and gave him a light, love tap on the neck.

" _This_ would've killed you" he said to the knight was he moved to help his partner.

Owain wasn't a push over in practice either. He swung aggressive swings till he wore down his opponent before finishing his opponent with what would be a mortal strike if his sword was a real one.

"Wait… So, you're telling me that you've never had a teacher?" he said as he finished his opponent and took a glance at his ally.

The Unkindled thought about the question.

"No, I've had a coach before. She taught me how to use a katana like all the other knights of Londor" he said, glancing down at his own two practice swords.

Owain raised an eyebrow.

" _Really_? Nothing about your style hints at a katana wielder".

"That's because I gave that fighting style up" he said softly as he sheathed his practice swords to his sides.

Owain told their other sparring partners that they were done for now. He trudged over to one of the nearby benches amongst the other knights sparring and grabbed two mole skin canteens. He tossed one to Ansem, who didn't even bother opening it up.

"How come you turned it away?" he pried slightly as he took a drink.

The Ashen One shrugged, an obvious avoidance of the question.

"For personal reasons; besides, it's messy fighting. I exactly fond of being soaked in blood after every fight".

Owain nodded his head in understanding. The Ashen One put the unopened canteen on the ground and picked up his swords.

"Come on, let's get back to practicing" Ansem commanded before Owain could ask any more personal questions.

* * *

During the nights, Ansem and Robin would converse about a myriad of things at the bonfire, alone while all the other knights had sulked off to the barracks. From the weapon triangle, to the fighting class systems, magic, history and other things. More importantly, she took time to explain what being their champion at Ferox meant.

"Ferox wouldn't agree to our negotiations because they've never been the sort of nation that could stomach politics. They love combat over any sort of verbal confrontation, in fact, people commonly jest that physical combat is their politics" Robin explained.

Numerous Khans lived in the Feroxi plains and it usually fell to two or three that were the strongest who competed to rule. This was sorted out by an annual tournament that determined who and who wouldn't be the ruling Khan for that year. Basilio died during the Fell Dragon War and Flavia went missing around a year ago right after the Shepard's helped her hold power at last years tournament. Now the leader of the East Khans is Basilio's nephew, Torvus and the leader of the West Khans, a bastard warrior named Pudet.

Usually, it was a group of fighters loyal to one of the Khans who fought on their behalf, but this year they are settling the fight down to one warrior against one warrior.

"Why not pick one of your other knights?" Ansem asked.

Robin looked at the knight with tired eyes. It was apparent that this was a subject of long debate for her, and was probably what Chrom and her were talking about when they entered Anna's house a couple days earlier.

"That would be ideal, wouldn't it? But the Khan we are supporting, Pudet, is half Feroxian and half Ylissian. All of our best knights are from Ylisstol or Ferox and since he's a half-breed, they're considering Ylisstol knights as part of his allegiance".

Ansem crossed his arms. It sounded like the other Khan was just trying to use any excuse to limit the candidates for his rival.

"That still doesn't explain why _you_ can't fight in the tournament. Even though I haven't seen you fight, rumour has it that you are quite the capable fighter".

Robin poked the fire with a stick. She was smiling from the news of what her comrades thought of her, but after a few seconds she reverted to her normal, clinical self.

"I have had my fair share of battles, and I'm ready to put my on Grandmaster armour at a moment's notice, but I won't be able to this time around. Unfortunately, I have been barred from the tournament thanks to my ties to Plegia. Any fighter from that nation was banned because of their constant antagonizing towards Ferox over the last century or so; and honestly, it's a barring that is quite deserved. The less Plegia interferes with the world, the better".

"That's rich coming from a Plegian who is trying to force a country to change their ways" Ansem pointed out.

Robin looked at Ansem with a bitter look.

"I may be from there, but I am serving the common good. I don't even see Plegia as my own home. My home is here, with my comrades" she said.

"So that's where I come in. I am the wild card that is technically not even from this world, so I will be allowed to fight on behalf of everyone else?" Ansem said in complete understanding.

Robin nodded her head.

"That's the gist of it. It was either you or one of ours from Valm, but Chrom and I both know that most of the soldiers from there don't know their hilt from their blade".

The Ashen One laughed at her joke, his laugh overpowering the cackling of the flame. The two sat there in silence for some time after he came back to his mellow. Two characters of strong beliefs, sharing the quiet air beneath the company of the stars.

"By the way, this is your doing, right?" she said as she prodded the charred sword in the bonfire.

The Ashen One nodded his head.

"Care to explain? It's a practice that literally has been raising eyebrows amongst all the other Shepards" she said as she tossed the stick she used for prodding into the fire.

"It's a ritual in my world that symbolises the first flame. People like me... we _need_ this sort of light to reflect, to heal, and to restore confidence because God only knows what sort of horrors we would be facing the next day".

Ansem shivered lightly as he explained. It may have been a bit more honest that he meant it to be.

"It doesn't mean anything in this world, but I find that carrying this little piece of my world everywhere with me gives me some… _comfort_ " he said to his commander earnestly.

Robbin glanced at the Ashen One, her gold eyes dancing with the bonfire's slow flame.

"Sentimentality isn't something most people are keen on sharing" she said watching the knight.

The knight crossed his arms. Was he beginning to trust her?

"If you are going to put your trust in me, then I need to put some trust in you. That's pretty fair, isn't it?"

"I suppose so. Just…" she paused, "don't fuck up okay? We're so close to achieving our goal and if this doesn't go the right way, there's no telling what the other Khan will do" she said seriously.

The two sat in silence for a bit, only watching the fire dance.

"Can I ask you something?" Robin whispered across the fire.

The Ansem hummed in response.

"Why doesn't this fire ever go out?"

The Unkindled's chin locked itself in a stern frown. You can't answer her that question, no matter how much you want to, you can't tell her why, he thought to himself. Once again, he touched his chest, feeling the foreign heat. He turned his face and it was clear to the tactician that he wouldn't answer the question.

"It has been burning for three days straight now and it hasn't once shown a single sign of diminishing. Is it some sort of pyromancy?" she asked in a serious tone.

"Maybe if win the tournament I'll tell you, but until then, it'll be my little secret" Ansem dimly as he crossed his arms.

Robin frowned and got up from her bench. There wasn't anything else she could learn from him today.

"We leave tomorrow for Regna Ferox. We'll be riding pretty hard so we should be there within a two days" she said as she brushed off her robes of the soot that culminated on the benches by the bonfire.

"I'll be up at the crack of dawn as usual" Ansem replied as he gave a stretch and made himself comfortable.

They offered him a place in the barracks, but he preferred to sleep by the bonfire outside. He wasn't lying when he said it gave him comfort, _some_ habits are just hard to break. He didn't sleep at all at Anna's place, and it was only after sleeping outside that he realised that perhaps after years of sleeping on the ground, a bed simply wouldn't do.

He would always be a slave to the fire... No matter how far he runs away.

"Oh… I forgot to mention" Robin said as she turned to leave.

She turned back to face the Unkindled. Her face was steadfast, and the Unkindled instantly knew he wouldn't like she was going to say.

"After this business in Ferox is done. I don't think we'll be needing _you_ around anymore. So…. When this is done… You'll have to go back through the Outer Realm Gate" she said coldly.

Ansem didn't respond. He nodded his head and the tactician was gone in a swift motion back to the castle. He was just beginning to feel somewhat like a man with a purpose too. He closed his eyes and let his head slump into a deep sleep, preparing himself for the ride tomorrow.

* * *

Most of the Shepards that rode with them had been in the warm climate of Ylisse for far too long. By the time they had passed the large wall that separated the countries, many of them were shivering uncontrollably. The snowy landscape of Regna Ferox wasn't for those weak to the climate.

Frederick hugged his winter coat tight as he led their small 8-person troop behind Robin through the fields, seeing snowflakes fall endlessly all around them. He wanted to mutter a word of complaint but he refused, setting an example for the other knights. Even though Chrom wasn't here, he would be ashamed if his retainer didn't leave a good example to follow. He watched the road for any signs of trouble but never found any, and by the end the second day, they could see the outer rim of the Regna Ferox Arena in the distance.

The time for Robin's trump card was almost at hand, he thought as he turned around and glanced at the knight.

He was an easy one to spot. His dark armour seemed to be free of any flakes, and next to his snow-covered companions next to him, he looked like a lone black circle on a white piece of paper.

Frederick wondered how his armour did not allow snow to stick. Was it enchanted? Whatever it was, it was working in his favour.

"We're almost there, just give it another 5 hours and we'll be there" Robin called out to the group.

Frederick counted his men. Behind him was Stahl, Severa, Owain, Ansem, Brady and Chester, a Ylisstol recruit. So far, the only person who complained was Severa, but that was an acceptable loss. There was just no getting through to that girl sometimes, he thought to himself. No matter how much discipline he tries to train her with, she never follows.

"Alright. Who's turn is it this time?" Brady asked as he rode beside Ansem and Owain.

"I already went, Chester's was boring as _hell_ , Stahl's was alright and you and Owain shared the same story which I _still_ think is technically cheating" Severa complained.

Frederick let out a sigh. They were playing that silly little game again, he thought to himself as he kept his eyes on the road.

Every long trip the 'Future Children' would always try to tell the most amazing tale or adventure they had been on. Inigo always used to easily beat the rest of the stories, but after Olivia announced she was pregnant, Inigo volunteered to go serve at the Out Realm Gate and stopped hanging around Ylisstol.

Now that Inigo was out of the picture, the competition had gotten fierce.

"Frederick! Tell us one of your tales so that Brady and Owain don't win" Stahl called out to the commander.

"Yeah, Frederick. Tell them about how difficult it is to wear a fancy suit under all that thick armour" the tactician teased from the front, looking back with a devilish grin on her face.

Frederick uttered a 'humph' of annoyance in response.

"I take no shame in being able to look presentable before and after a battle" he answered in a stern, serious voice.

"Wait, are you seriously wearing a 3 piece suit right now?" Ansem called out in disbelief.

"You'd better believe it, newbie. The commander's sharp dress code is only matched by the edge of his weapons" Severa said out loud.

"...I respect that" Ansem said as he took a drink from his mysterious orange flask.

"Wait a minute… Ansem hasn't told any stories yet" Severa gleamed as she rode next to the black knight.

The warrior seemed to straighten his back. The strong silent type, Frederick thought.

"I don't intend to. Not for your enjoyment anyhow" he shrugged her off.

"Aw, come on! If you're going to be one of us, you need to partake in our activities! You've been quiet this entire trip!" she teased meanly.

The Ashen One took a moment to consider her proposal. Even Frederick felt that the persistent girl had a point.

"Life in Lothel or Lothic or whatever the heck it's called can't be _that_ boring" she teased some more.

"Fine, but if I partake I _intend_ to win" he said, emanating a competitive tone from under his helmet.

"That's the spirit, Ansem! Sing a tale of the Dual Wielding Menace of the Eternal Flame" Owain said encouragingly from behind him, slapping him on the back much to the discomfort of the black knight.

The Ashen One took a deep breath, Frederick knew that he was probably searching the deep recesses of his mind for something.

"Okay… I think I have one" he finally said with conviction.

"Well give us a hook!" Brady squealed.

Ansem looked away from Severa, his reins tightening on the horse as it tried desperately to not sink into the snow.

"This is the tale of Yhrom the Giant, Lord of Cinder".

* * *

 **A/N** : Sorry for the time skip, but the last thing I want is to get swamped down in exposition. Let's get to the Arena!

These three sections are almost like slices of the important parts of Ansem's his short time before leaving for Ferox. They're written in the style of the support conversations you can perform in Fire Emblem when your at your base between chapters. The first section alluded to Owain's perspective on the Unkindled's fighting style, as well as how the Unkindled mentioned that he used a katana in the past. If you've seen VaatiVidya's video on Londor, he mentions that bleeding weapons are a staple in their warrior code.

Robin and the Unkindled avoid being honest with each other while ironically talking about the importance of being honest with one another. The Unkindled still hasn't mentioned anything about the Undead curse, his Unkindled abilities nor his past; and Robin hasn't mentioned anything about her true involvement in the Fell Dragon War... especially about being host of the Fell Dragon. Robin does end the conversation on a dark, brooding tone which probably is going to cement their cold relationship for quite some time.

Lastly, we saw some of Frederick and the other Shepard's getting along; and per Fire Emblem style, Owain and Ansem are getting along because they are pairing up during practice. I like the idea of the future children's 'story game' because as any avid traveller can confirm, the best way to kill time is to tell a story. The next chapter is already written I just have to proofread it, and by tomorrow that shit should be up.

I'm glad people are picking apart the principles of utilitarianism and deontology that make Robin's plan for the world ethically questionable, especially rc48177's comment. The sort of checks and balances that Robin is enforcing is a total violation of state control _even_ if she thinks it's for done for the "greater good", making the effort in her mind permissible. In her efforts to try to move on from the Cycle of the Fell Dragon (every 1,000 years and all that), she might be guiding the world to a worsened state. The real question is whether her choices will come back to bite her in the ass. I hope I didn't come off as esoteric, but I just wanted to explain that Robin's naivety is an intentional character flaw perpetuated by her position as the 'always right tactician', and not an oversight.


	10. Chapter IX

Chapter IX:

Giant Slayer

The Ashen One traversed the fog, feeling it ooze away as he entered the room. He would have been lying if he said he didn't feel the immediate sense of dread as the room unfolded itself in front of him.

Beneath the Profane Capital was a throne room that was fit for a giant, with enormous pillars that stretched towards the ceiling what seemed like hundreds of feet into the howling darkness above. Between the pillars was a shallow pool of water mere inches deep, and at the ends of the room was a disturbing mix of human ash, burned remains, and ornaments of royal decree. At the end of the hallway, sat a colossal giant in chain mail so large that a single link was about the size of the Unkindled's hand.

The Ashen One took his first steps into the pool, feeling the cool liquid seep into his boots. His own footsteps were mirrored by another knight, this one wearing armour far heavier than the Unkindled's. The Ashen One cast his glance to his side, watching Siegward of Catarina walk past the Unkindled.

The Unkindled watched with awe at the weapon Siegward was using. It looked like a broken longsword with a plain blade, which was in far worse condition that his usual Zweihander. The Onion-Knight of old raised his blade towards the giant:

"Yhorm… Old friend" he spoke with a deep seeded pity.

The Giant seemed to take notice of the pale knight, his veiny stone arms seemed to ignite with a frightening crimson colour. Indeed, there was no doubt in the Ashen One's mind that this was a Lord of Cinder. But this fight was different, he had fought the Abyss Watchers by himself, he'd had claimed Aldrich of the Deep on his own as well, but this time, he would have help.

"I, Siegward of the Knights of Catarina-"

The Giant slammed its weapon into the stone, a massive two handed machete with engraving detailing a legendary battle.

He began to rise.

"-have come to uphold my promise".

The Giant rose out of his throne, stepping on the charred corpses of his subjects. He lifted his head, and beneath the vile crown and the chain mail, were dark, deep eyes that were filled with sadness.

Siegward was unflinching. This was the duty he had mentioned back in the jail cell, now wasn't the time to show fear.

"Let the Sun, shine upon this Lord of Cinder!"

The Giant's face turned immediately, his eyes showing a deep seething for the man and his Unkindled companion. He slammed his machete into the ground, the metal echoing out into the chamber and released a war cry so powerful it sent small ripples across the water.

"HIYAH!" the Onion Knight screamed as he ran towards the Giant, full force through the water.

The Giant ran, each step causing a violent murmur on the ground. He took one swing at Siegward and Siegward dodged the massive Machete and plunged the sword into the Giant's leg.

The Giant howled its terrible howl and swung his hands towards the Onion-Knight, swatting him away into the air a good two dozen feet. He landed with a crash and a loud 'Oof!' escaped his breath.

"Siegward! Are you crazy?!" The Unkindled screamed as he saw the knight slowly try to get up.

The Unkindled drew his blade, a long eastern blade that had slain many monsters and demons before. He leaped into a mad dash, chasing the Giant who turned to face the dark knight.

Yhorm swept his machete, trying to cleave the knights body in one swoop but the knight saw it coming. He leapt over the blade and landed on the ground with a roll. Now between his legs, he swung left and right barely cutting into the Giant's thick skin.

The Giant roared and reached down to try to grab the Unkindled but he slid around his leg, cutting it as he escaped from his reach. As his energy began to fade, the Ashen One pulled back and found himself next to the collapsed knight.

"Are you alright?"

"Ugh… Yes… Yes I'll live" the knight said, his voice lightly echoing from within his saucer helmet.

"You should have waited" The Unkindled said jokingly, mocking the Onion-Knight who returned the retort with a light chuckle.

"Ha ha… perhaps I should have. But this old knight still has some fight in him" he said as he staggered himself to his feet.

The Unkindled broke away just as Yhorm recovered from his light, barely damaging attack. Yhorm raised his machete and slammed it down on the ground, causing the pool to literally rise out of the basin around the attack.

The Ashen One continued to run but the water masked the next attack, another vertical slice. He rolled out of the way but when he landed the wave of water staggered him, giving him poor footing.

By the time he recovered he barely saw the horizontal swipe before it slammed right into him.

He let out a blood curling cry as he flew up, cartwheeling in the dark air and landed into a pile of crumbled ash and goblets.

His body felt completely shattered by the blast, his vision blurry and his hearing was ringing so badly he could barely make sense of where he was. He coughed up blood, clouding the inside of his helmet with the hot smell of red liquid. He could hear the thundering sound of the Giant rushing towards him. Fuck! he cursed in his head shaking his head to clear his thoughts. His hands clawed for something to grab onto, feeling the ash and the gold cups around him.

He looked up and saw the Giant, priming his next attack. He raised his machete, his fiery arms bursting with cinder.

"It's over…" the Unkindled coughed, accepting his eventual revival at the bonfire.

But something felt off.

He could feel the wind rustling through his armour and the ash around him danced as the grains of grey rushed to one direction. There couldn't be wind this far down below the earth. It was impossible, he glanced to his left where Siegward was and he could see the man standing, sword raised above his head with both hands.

The sword had some whirlwind that manifested itself around the blade. The water all around the Onion-Knight seemed to rippled in his direction and with a mighty war cry, he brought the sword down towards the ground.

The howling wind from the blade sent a tremor more terrible than any roar the giant could muster inside himself. The whirlwind shot out a maelstrom so powerful it seemed to cut right into the Giant, sending him to his knees right before he could bring his own attack down onto the Unkindled.

"Get out of there!" Siegward shouted.

The Ashen One pulled himself out of the ash and made a clumsy, stumbling run for cover. The Giant looked over to Siegward with eyes livid like a demon, and he smashed his machete into the ground in frustration. As he did so, his body became more and more cindered with fire.

He was going to fight till the last breath.

"What on earth was that?!" the Ashen knight shouted as Siegward angled the sword towards the giant.

The Unkindled could feel a change in the air again and a low howl emanating from the blade.

"A giant killing sword. Only a few exist in this world and I plan to use this to fulfil my duty!" he announced, as the howling got louder and louder.

The Giant approached more fiercely than before. Siegward continued to charge up the wind, unmoving to the colossal beast.

"Back up, Unkindled".

He did as he was told, just as the whirlwind around the sword reached it's peak. Siegward brought the sword down once again, the blast parting the water and careening itself right into the Giant, causing him to stagger once again.

The Ashen One reached for his blade but his hands found no hilt. He glanced at his scabbard and saw that the blade was missing entirely. Shit! That knock back must have knocked the sword out of of his hands. He glanced around but to saw no glint that was distinguishable from the mountains of ash and gold.

He reached into his box for a weapon that could possibly be of any help, but as he found one, the Giant started to stir.

Siegward prepared another assault with Yhorm still on his knees. Instead of running towards Siegward, he swung his machete to his side, shattering one of the massive pillars supporting the chamber. He picked up one of the pieces of rubble and hurled it towards Siegward with God-like force.

Siegward didn't have enough time to get out of the way. He broke his stance and tried to block the attack with the sword, and much to his dismay, the block sent the blade out of his hands.

"Oh no!" he shouted as he watched the blade shoot across the room.

The sword spiralled towards the doorway they entered from and stuck itself into the wall. The sword was far too high for either of them to reach, and with a sullun sigh, Siegward's heart sank.

There went his only ticket to victory.

"Look over here, you ugly bastard!" the Unkindled shouted across the room.

Yhorm turned his attention and saw the Unkindled wielding a great bow that was taller than the wielder itself. He already had a dragon slayer arrow knocked into the bow and as the Giant took notice of the terrifying weapon, the Ashen One released the arrow.

The arrow slammed into the Giant with such force that dust flew off the Giant. But when the dust subsided, the arrow barely punctured his skin. Yhorm ran towards the Unkindled, angrier than before. His power of Cinder spread over to his machete, his weapons bursting with fire that it lit up all the darkness in the room.

The Ashen One tossed the bow to his side and ran away from the Giant.

"Unkindled! To the throne!" Siegward hollered.

The Ashen One cast his gaze over to it and saw what Siegward was beaming at. To the side of the throne was a sword almost identical to the one that Siegward had been using. It was laid right across the bottom of the throne room. He ran towards the throne and rolled out of the way of a downward strike from the Giant.

Of all the places to keep such a blade, why keep it at the base of a giant's throne? The Ashen One shook his head, now was _not_ the time to be theorising.

He quickly ran over to the blade and pulled it from the ground. The Giant bellowed a cry and began to charge towards him.

The Ashen One imitated the stance and felt the energy begin to surge into the sword. The whirlwind spun and spun, sucking what little air was inside the chamber of the Giant.

The Giant caught up to him and swung downward, an attack that the Ashen One danced around, keeping the sword in the same position. He ran underneath the Giant's legs and dashed back towards Siegward.

He took the pose once again, waiting for the Giant to rumble towards him with each step shaking the ground. The sword beamed white as the Giant began to come down with a strike and the Ashen One feigned an attack before rolling beneath the Giant once again. Yhorm brought his blade down shattering the earth.

The Ashen One made it about halfway across the watery basin before he spun around, raised the hurricane above his hand, and brought it crashing down over at the Giant's back.

This blast sent the water and the ash all around them scattering in a myriad of direction. The Giant staggered into a pillar, shaking the earth more and more to the point where the Unkindled thought the chamber might even collapse. The Ashen One fell into the water from all the vibrations, there was a chance that attack finished off the Lord of Cinder.

"Is it over!?" he called out.

No. The Giant once again got to his feet. Ready to fight even more.

"Are you serious!? Just fucking die already!" he screamed as he prepared another attack.

The Giant bolted towards the Ashen One and swung more wildly than he had ever before. The Ashen One was smashed immediately backwards into the water basin, bouncing violently into the ground.

The Ashen One tried to summon more air, but for some reason the air didn't seem to surround the blade at all. He began to panic.

"Why aren't you working?!" he hissed at the blade as the Giant approached him.

The Giant raised his machete and the Ashen One braced for the impact. But right before it could come down, another wind blast smashed the Giant from behind.

Siegward had fired another blast, much to the bewilderment of the Ashen One. It appeared that the overly violent blast the Ashen One had made combined with the Giant's tumbling vibration caused the sword to loosen itself from the wall. While the Giant was busy with Ansem, the scampering Onion had made sure to charge a blast.

The Giant fell to his knees, the cinders slowly fading from him body. The Ashen One charged an attack, the sword beamed and he raised the sword aiming for the Giant's neck.

The Giant stared at the ground, he uttered a low drawl that sounded like a monster that was accepting his defeat. With a battle cry that echoed through the chamber, the Unkindled brought the blast down right on the Giant's neck, severing the head from the body in one fell swoop.

The head soared off, the body clumping into a bright, blistering fire that lit up every corner of the dark chamber. The Ashen One shielded his eyes from the blast, but in a flash, the fire subsided and the two knights were the only living beings standing in the room. Yhorm, had been bested.

* * *

It was all over, Siegward took a seat on the stairs of the throne and breathed hollow breaths. He was exhausted, and he sorely felt that with Yhorm dead, the chamber was ghastly quiet.

The Ashen One took a seat right next to him, breathing heavily too. He took a drink from his flask, feeling his insides heal up from the trauma the machete did to his body.

"It seems" the Onion began, "I'm in your debt… Once again…"

The two sat in silence for a few seconds, watching the water gather back into the basin. It sat motionlessly, undisturbed by the battle that had ensured there.

"My thanks… I could not have kept my promise without you. Now…" he said, almost lightly chuckling at the air around.

"For a final toast" and he bellowed a laugh that echoed warmth throughout the dead hallways of the Profaned Capital.

He took out two cups of his famous brew and gave one to the Ashen One, who smiled as he took the cup.

"To your valour" and with a hint of sadness "and my old friend Yhorm"

"Long may the Sun Shine!"

* * *

They had been drinking for some time before Siegward began to talk.

"Say Unkindled One, do you recall when we spoke in the Giant's Tower?"

The Ashen One smiled lightly, finally recovered from the exhaustion of battle.

"Of course, that was the first time I met you".

Siegward seemed troubled by this statement.

"Perhaps to you as an Unkindled, but I have a confession to make to you, Old Friend".

The Unkindled looked at him sideways.

"Go on, then. After such a battle, I doubt anything you say could sour the mood".

Siegward smiled underneath his helmet.

"I sincerely do hope so. When you met me in the tower, you weren't wearing this silly dark armour, and when I looked upon your face I recognised you in an instant. But lost in thought as I always am, I didn't think much of it"

He took a drink from his brew.

"But when you attacked the Demon in the ruined town, and I rushed to your reckless battle, I knew that I had seen you before. But what baffled me was that you didn't recognise me" he muttered sadly.

"Should I have?"

"Perhaps not. I feel as if whatever brought you back as an Unkindled purposefully muddled your memory, but long ago, I had met an Undead who had similar mannerisms as you, he even fought with a Kanata similar to yours, but that was when this land was called Lordran".

He recoiled his head, remembering how he met the man outside of Sen's Fortress. At the time, Siegward had gone by the name of Siegmeyer, his birth name. He had watched the world go on, became a respectable friend to Yhorm and watched him pass from the world in a blaze of glory. But that was centuries ago, and the name Siegmeyer only reminded him of his failures.

"When I inquired what you were doing, you said you were the Chosen Undead, on a journey to ignite the First Flame" Siegward said as he put his cup down, turning to the dark knight.

"But seeing as how you _aren't_ a Lord of Cinder, I can only imagine you failed" he said with a hint of sadness.

The Unkindled didn't say anything, he simply watched the watery basin. He never bothered to wonder what kind of person this _Ansem the Just_ was, all he knew was that whoever he was, he didn't link the flame like many others before him.

"But look at what you can accomplish!" Siegward exclaimed suddenly, standing up with energy.

"You have helped me numerous times in the past, I don't know what could have possibly stood in your way! Certainly, a Lord of Cinder couldn't have…." he said in was serious tone, looking out at the Lord of Cinder's remains.

"Me thinks you may have abandoned your quest instead… But I can't fathom why" he said as took a seat again.

"Maybe it doesn't matter. I doubt I'm even the same person as that Undead, still… I'm thankful that you shed some light on my past" the Unkindled said as he got up from the ground".

Using the bonfire that had emanated from the remains of the Lord of Cinder, the Ashen One picked up Yhorm's untouched skull, and placed his hands over the fire.

"Farewell my, Old Friend… Don't you dare go Hollow" he said as his body faded into dust, back to the Firelink Shrine.

Siegward sat alone by himself, hearing nothing but the cackling of the bonfire from where the Unkindled vaporised.

"I wonder if you got to the Flame, and decided just like my poor friend Yhrom, that maybe linking the Fire wasn't the right thing to do".

He threw his sword and shield down and pulled off his armour feeling the cool air around him. He walked into the cool watery basin, letting the water lick his tired bones.

"What do I do now, Ansem? What do I do now that my promise is kept?"

He looked to the throne, and without purpose to continue, felt the tingling sensation of his hollowing begin to eat away at his skin.

He wandered the world from then on, and whether he remained human is unknown to even the Ashen One.

* * *

 **A/N** : I wish the Stormruler was used for literally anything else but sadly, it's just for this fight :'(.

So, there has been a lot of speculation around whether Siegward and Siegmeyer are the same person but I've always leaned towards the "same character- different name" idea. He literally uses the same weapon, has the same voice actor, same mannerisms and has been an undead for an extremely long time (according to his Siegbrau description). So, I speculate that he lived long after the events of Dark Souls One, made his promise to Yhorm long before he used his being to kindle the flame, while the Profane Capital was still relevant. Then long after his remaining human relatives died out (descendants of Sieglinde, who never became undead) he no longer had a purpose and went hollow. But as fate would have it, Yhorm came back, and suddenly Siegmeyer had a purpose in life to draw upon. But his old name reminded him of his past misfortunes that made him hollow in the first place, so he rectified that with a slight change.

I wanted to make the fight a tad bit more interesting than running to the throne, grabbing the Stormruler, and then ganking the shit out of Yhorm as you and Siegward pound him with wind blasts, so I added in more segments of the fight. I also wanted to show Ansem wielding the Uchigatana, and not the Gotthard Twin Swords which he uses in Ylisse. Also I drew parallels with Ansem, Yhorm and the first cycle of the First Flame (first linking after Gwyn).

The muddling of memory isn't a farfetched idea either, since in the opening cutscene in DS3, it shows the Soul of Cinder burning the corpse of an undead, creating the first unkindled; a being who could inherit the power of the flame as well as the curse of the undead. It literally destroyed the Undead, and rebuilt him brand new. I'll say it right now though that I'm not doing this amnesia for cliché reasons, because Ansem will never _ever_ get his memory as an undead back. He is not reliant on finding out who he is, and while he is slightly grateful, he knows there is no point dwelling on things that he can't do anything about. The thing that is important to note is that undead Ansem was completely capable of becoming seduced by the Prophecy of the Undead and reaching the First Flame, but he never linked the fire.

So now that we have a few bits of backstory of the Unkindled, onto reviewer concerns:

My apologies to SCB Blackwing for not delving into Yhorm's story, because in all reality, the Unkindled never learned of his ugly misfortune; but his story is pretty interesting. I hate to plug Vaatividya again, but he did an excellent video explaining how he was a Giant Warrior King of the Profane Capital who was hated by his human underlings. He fought with his machete and a great shield, but after failing to protect someone important to him, he discarded the shield and added second notch for him to grip the machete with two hands. It's not explained when he gave his life to kindle the flame, but when he did so, it swallowed up his body and charred his kingdom (hence why there are so many burned bodies). There's stuff about the Profane Flame, and the Stormruler but I don't want to mess up the story (I'm recalling this from the top of my head) so I recommend to go watch it.

To everyone having doubts on Robin's scheme... I can't say anything without alluding to anything so I have to stay quiet... Sorry!


	11. Chapter X

Chapter X:

My Liege, My Lord, My Mortal Enemy

"I don't believe it" Severa said stiffly as they entered the gates of the Ferox Arena.

"What?!" the black knight blurted out as he dismounted his horse and followed the troop.

There was a camp fire outside the walls of the Arena and the Unkindled placed a blade inside it and put his hand over it. The soldiers who were garrisoned around the flame, huddling to keep warm looked at him with bewilderment, but upon noticing his kindling of the bonfire made the fire warmer, they didn't seem to mind his foreign antics.

Some of them even thanked him.

"Why would a Giant be killed by a sword which blows wind? That's like knocking down a brick wall with a fire place bellow. It's _dumb_ " she said with a stern face.

Ansem took off his helmet, revealing a face that was completely thunderstruck. Robin watched him as his fist clenched up and she lightly chuckled to herself.

"I-" he uttered, completely confused.

"It still was a good story, far better than yours', Severa" Brady said laughing.

"No, it wasn't! What kind of knight uses a helmet that literally makes him look like an onion? And what kind of Giant puts a sword that could kill him by his own throne?"

"It was to prove that his life was in the hands of his peo- you know what? Fuck it. Let's just all call a vote and be over with this" Ansem said as he crossed his arms impatiently.

They all took vote, Robin included, and Ansem ended up winning, 5-3 votes against Owain and Brady's story. Ansem nodded his head around in approval, and put his helmet back. Not a word of bravado or pride in the story. Robin probably knew that he is telling the truth, and for some reason, every time he mentioned the phrase "Lord or Cinder", he seemed to shiver with fear.

They all dismounted and walked into the large arena passageway, which were crammed packed with people who came to watch the fateful fight that decided the ruler of Ferox. Robin knew the proper way to where the leader of the West Khans would be and promptly lead the troop through the crowds of people to the upper podiums.

She reached the hallways with the proper banners, a blue sigil with a horse rider bowman, and was met by two guard who stood in her way. Robin paused in front of them and eyed the two. Behind them was a large, throne-like chair that overlooked the infamous pillared arena.

"I'm here for the West Khan, Pudet, rightful ruler of Regna Ferox" she commanded with her head held high and with authority.

The guards stood there for some time, eyeing the woman and her troop suspiciously.

"Let them through" a low murmur called from the chair.

The guards looked at each other and parted from the path. Robin, with Frederick at her side, marched through and turned to meet the Khan who was sitting calmly in his chair.

Pudet was an unimpressive man at first sight, his red and white mullet and scarred face rested above a weak legged individual. But what he lacked in lower body strength, his upper arms made up for. His bowman ship on horseback was legendary and was not to be underestimated. He offered a seat next to him and Robin took it.

"Pudet, you are looking far better since the last time we met" she said as she looked at the Khan she was backing.

The Khan looked at her with a sideways glance.

"Yes, I suppose I do. Last time we met it had been a week since my assassination attempt, but alas, poisoned wine still wasn't enough to kill me" he muttered in brooding drawl.

Robin didn't laugh, she instead just looked out onto the arena. It hadn't changed one bit, it was still the same stone arena lit by the massive dome ahead and the torch light all around.

"Where is my champion?" Pudet coughed.

At least he didn't like to waste time, how typical of a Feroxi, Robin thought. Robin gestured to Frederick, who took leave and returned to the troop who were standing by the guards. He returned moments later with Ansem at his side.

Pudet turned around lazily in his chair, his eyes glancing up and down at his black armoured champion. His lips drew themselves into a pronounced frown, but when he saw the knight's blades, they switched to an arrogant curl.

"A sword master?"

"Similar. He has his own fighting style from his foreign land but he bested our garrisoned sword master, so consider him a notch above" Robin explained as she kept her eyes focused on the Khan.

The Khan nodded his head satisfied. He turned and looked at the seating far in the distance, perfectly across of where he was sitting. That was where the East Khan would be.

"I hear Torvus is using a peculiar warrior" he said, almost gurgling his words.

No one said anything in response, they just remained silent as the Khan went on his little tangent.

"They say the warrior uses a blade that no man can see, and before they know it, they are skewered and bled dry. Sounds like a proper Feroxi knight if you ask me" he chuckled as he snapped his fingers and a waiter brought over a cup of wine.

Ansem turned to look at Robin, who in turn responded by giving him a stern look. You don't have to like the damn fool, she thought in her head; just do your job and we'll be out at the crack of dawn tomorrow. Ansem must have read her expression and turned to look at the Khan.

"You have a name, runt?" Pudet mocked.

"Ansem the Just, Sir" he responded.

"The _Just_? Then why the hell are you working for this lady?" the Khan spat with an obnoxious laugh.

Ansem did not reply, which was a good thing. Robin remained smiling her calm smile but behind her veil she wanted to choke the life out the man. Fucking asshole, she thought.

"Last I checked, Plegia was the last place on earth for someone with a modicum of justice in them to reside" he mocked, looking at the white-haired maiden.

"Now, now Pudet. No point digging up old dirt, especially when it was _you_ who came to _me_ for a champion" Robin said, dissuading the man from insulting her any further.

The man's sick smile was sapped away in an instant. He turned his attention to his wine and finished the cup in a solid second.

"Do you know how old Torvus is? The little fucker is _sixteen_ years of age, _sixteen_! If he thinks I'm going to lose today, he'll be sorely mistaken. Go down there and wait for the gate to open, I am expecting you to kill whatever vagabond the little shit has dragged up and make it an entertaining show while you're at it" the Khan bellowed as he shooed with his hands away.

"Don't forget our deal, Pudet" Robin said cautiously.

He uttered a humph of annoyance.

"Of course, Robin, you'll get your ruddy embassy and I'll get this ruddy kingdom. I'm a man of my word".

The three Shepards bowed and took their leave, returning to the troop. They were led by an attendant for Pudet and before they knew it, Ansem was standing at one of the gates before the arena. The rest of the troop moved to the seats of the arena to watch, only Robin stood with him now behind the closed gate.

"He's a friendly guy. I'm glad we're vouching for him and not some cunt with a stick up his ass" Ansem said sarcastically as he looked out onto the Arena.

"Careful who you say that to, Ansem. You may have just insulted the man who's going to be ruling this nation" Robin said indignantly.

Ansem shrugged, gripping his two swords and drawing them out. Their silver edges danced with the torch light around them.

"I'll chalk it up to me defending my commander. It's just a shame you're so eager to get rid of me" he said coyly.

Robin rolled her eyes.

"If you think you're going to guilt trip me into changing my mind, you've got another thing coming. Even Chrom agreed that once this is over you would-"

"I'm sure he did. But regardless Commander, I'm thankful for the chance you gave me to escape my own reality for a bit. Sometimes it's nice not to have the whole weight of the world on your shoulders. Even if it was for a small time" he said in a cheerful voice very much unlike him.

Robin scrunched her face. Now wasn't the time to be sentimental.

"Look, we'll talk once we get back to Ylisstol okay? But right now, I don't need you getting soft on me. Do you _feel_ ready?"

He nodded his head. His body looked calm and collected, his hands steady, his blades sharp.

"Good. Now get out there, and let's make the world a better place, one battle at a time" she said with a smile on her face.

They heard a loud horn play that sounded throughout the arena. The gate was raised and was locked open. Robin gave the knight a pat on the back and he was off into the light. The arena cheered as he entered and Robin ran upstairs to the seating next to Frederick.

Ansem walked confidently through the arena and ran something over his blades. The silver swords suddenly erupted into a blue, fiery blaze that sent the crowd into a loud roaring applause. He did a spin that sent the crowd wild, showing his blue swords to the thousands who had gathered to watch.

"Come on, Ansem!" Owain called out from the seating.

Robin's heart was beating hard in her chest. She hated that now Ansem was holding all the cards. She crossed her arms, stuffing the feeling of anxiety down her chest and forcing herself to keep a level head.

"Please win… Don't let me down" she prayed, as she watched the other gate open up.

* * *

Ansem watched the darkness behind the gate, his heart pounding. He was ready for the kind of man Pudet had described. A man with an unseen blade, how dark! He glanced down at his magic resined weapons and tightened his grip.

"It hurts me to see you use those _silly_ toys, Lord of Hollows".

Ansem's heart froze. Her words cut into him like icicles.

No… It couldn't be.

She took her first steps into the light of the arena, and the arena instantly entered into a hush. Her steel boots, her onyx battle dress, her gleaming silver gauntlets and her grotesque mask sent a shiver down all the onlooker's spines. The Unkindled's mind felt blank, his lips were unmoving and his feet suddenly felt cold. His eyes were following the menacing katana that she was holding at her side.

"What's wrong, Chosen Unkindled? Aren't you happy to see me?"

Her voice was so calm it was eerie. The Unkindled took a step back.

" _How_?" he sputtered out.

Yuria seemed amused by the question.

"Did you really think after all the work we did, we'd let you just walk away? Come now, Ashen One, it's time to stop playing house and come home".

The Ashen One growled like a wolf within his helmet. 'Playing house'? That's all I would ever do if I came back with you, he thought. He assumed his stance and faced Yuria.

"You really think I'm just going to waltz back with you? After all _you_ did?"

Yuria sighed, she took her hand off her blade and stood calmly erect, one arm across her chest and one propped underneath her helmet like she was thinking.

"If you don't do it for me, then at least do it for your precious, frail Fire Keeper. She's still where I left her, _mostly_ unscarred".

The Ashen One could feel his blood boiling.

"Stop with the mind games you _cooze_ , if you want _this_ back so badly" he beat his breast with his hilt, "you'll have to _take_ it from me" he hissed.

Yuria returned to grabbing her katana. She hummed a satisfied hum and drew her sword, tossing the scabbard to the side. The Ashen One winced at the blade, he should have known that the 'unseen blade' was referring to Dark Drift, Yuria's infamous sword.

"History tends to repeat itself, do you really think this time you'll best me?" she mocked menacingly.

"I don't give a _shit_ about what's happened before. I've shattered cycles before and I'll do it again!" he screamed out, his voice bathed in hate and guilt.

Yuria said nothing, just held the blade with both hands and took a stance.

"Your unyielding anger was admirable when we had you on a leash. Now... it's just _sad_ ".

" _Shut up!_ No more venomous words! I'll cut you down as many times as it takes till you crawl back to the hole you came through!"

The Ashen One broke into a sprint, his swords dancing through the air around him. Yuria held her stance.

"So be it" she crowed.

As the Unkindled approached, Yuria abruptly dashed towards him and lunged with the blade, full speed. Ansem barely saw it coming and rolled to the side of the attack, ready to drive his swords into her.

He thrusted at her but she put up her left hand, conjuring a red transparent shield in front of her. The Dark Hand didn't shield all the attack, but it was enough to prevent any serious knock back. She broke the shield off and with her sword hand, sliced right into the Unkindled's shoulder.

"AH! Fuck!" he cursed as he rolled back, blood pooling out of his open wound.

Yuria's transparent blade was now very much visible. The blood coating the Dark Drift ran from tip to hilt and with an expertly quick swing, the blood flew off, hiding the blade once more.

His blood now stained the sand of the area. The Unkindled felt his vision go blurry, his hand instinctively went for his estus flask and he took a massive draught from it. The crowd was roaring with anticipation from the attack, many of them thinking it was a mortal blow.

But as the estus entered his body, the wound healed itself and he was ready for more.

Yuria's stance was still the sickening calm position it always was, but now that the Unkindled was licking his wounds, she leaped into the air. The Unkindled put his flask away just in time as she came down from her leaping strike. He rolled underneath her and avoided the attack entirely, her gambit didn't pay off.

Dust and sand was kicking up from the battle, the two knights of Londor struggled as the members of Ferox watched with eyes of wonder.

"You've gotten slower, Ashen One. Have these plebeians been fattening Londor's champion?" she sneered.

The Ashen One ran towards her and with perpendicular strikes from each sword, began to wail on her. The sparks that flew off from their swords were gold and blue, making a spectacle of lights for the audience to see. They began to get louder but the two knights ignored the noise.

They were locked in a battle of fate, one that the Unkindled had lost in a different world under a pale solar eclipse.

The Unkindled continued his assault, finishing off his attack by leaping into the air, swords raised above his head and coming down on the woman.

Yuria barely danced around the attack and continuously rolled back away from her opponent, gaining enough ground to recover. She glanced towards her opponent and noticed that he had recovered from the leap and chased after her. He took a swing and sliced right into the woman's chest, the fiery resin spreading onto her body.

She took the hit with a grunt and rolled away, extinguishing the flames before they became a problem.

"Was _that_ too slow?" The Unkindled jeered as he pointed his left sword towards her.

She scowled, taking a moment to compose herself.

"It was a sly move, but you're only prolonging the inevitable".

The Unkindled's blades burned out. He took out a different brown paper and ran them along the edge of one of the blade. The paper seemed to spark electricity that ran all around the blade. He rapt the second blade with the first and they both became enraptured by the gold pine resin, endowing the blades with the power of lighting.

He rushed towards Yuria, dragging one sword along the ground shooting orange and gold sparks behind him. The Ferox Arena crowd cheered at the spectacle, and watched with keen eyes. The Unkindled wondered what the other Shepard's were thinking. He had never told them about the pine resins, they were probably completely befuddled by the layer of tactics he kept to himself.

He reached her and drew the blade off the ground, shooting sparks into the air. Yuria was unimpressed by the show and quickly rolled away from his attack. The Unkindled gave chase, sprinting alongside her and charging at her with his blades pointed towards her. He swiped at her legs and sliced one of them deep. She recoiled in pain and fought the urge to stagger, leaping out of any more incoming attacks.

The Unkindled twirled his blades. He had her on the run, if he was going to finish this he needed to do it quickly.

She had retreated close to one of the arena pillars and took a drink of her estus flask. Now they were on equal ground once again.

The Ashen One moved towards her, his swords ready to deflect any attack. She wasn't going to be pushed back any further either, and so she ran towards him, meeting his speed with her hidden blade at her side.

The Ashen One leaped into the air at the pillar, and kicking off the pillar to gain even more ground, he soared above her with his swords aiming for her head hoping to sever it clean with one fell swoop. His aim was true, his lighting tip sword menacing and quick.

But she was faster, and she plunged her katana right into the man's chest as he was coming down from the leap.

The Ashen One paused, skewered by the blade. He was inches away from her mask, seeing the detail of Kaathe, the primordial serpent inscribed on her mask.

The sound of liquid dripping onto the ground filled his ears.

"See, Ashen One" she whispered, "To me… you'll always just be a hollow, unfit for the fire that dwells within you".

She drew the blade out, the Ashen One collapsing onto the ground. He dropped his blades, he tried to get back up but his strength failed him. He fell sideways, dashing his head on the ground.

The Dark Drift's bleeding effect was even more effective against Undead and Unkindled.

She stood back and grabbed her katana with both hands, slowly, methodically raising the blade above her head. She watched as the blood ebbed around his body, his body twitching.

He raised his head, looking up at the knight of Londor.

"What are you waiting for?" he coughed, his gruelling voice still having the same edge as it did before.

She bent down, lightly prodding his body with the tip of her blade. He retched in pain from the stab, but she didn't follow through with the rest of the blade.

"Oh? You think I'm going to kill you?" she said in a serene voice.

She bent down lower, the sword sinking deeper into his back. He let out a scream of agony that made the West Khan audience members shudder.

"No. I'm not going to chase you after you revive at a bonfire, I'm no fool. You're already finished, but before I haul you back to the Firelink Shrine, I want you to suffer".

She plunged the sword deep enough to keep the man from moving. She stood up and retrieved something from a pouch she had. She tossed what she collected onto the ground and the things rolled towards to the Unkindled like marbles. He looked at them and whatever livid fire he had burning in his chest felt like it was extinguished.

They were two, silver eyes.

Ansem's mouth opened. He reached for the eyes and held them in his hands. How did she-? Why did she-? HOW _COULD_ SHE?!

"Oh _God_ " he cried in a low, broken voice.

 _"Ashen One? Are these... eyes? Fire Keeper aren't supposed to ha-"_

 _"I know. But I want you to see. I need you to see, please… I implore you, consider it a favour to me"_

 _She held the eyes cautiously, but she nodded her head. She clasped her hands over them and a white light enveloped her hands. The Ashen One slowly moved towards her, his hands carefully reaching around her face and lifting the silver crown around her eyes._

 _She had silver, unblemished eyes; and nothing in all of Lothric was quite as beautiful. She looked at his face, running her gaze over all of his details before settling on his own tired eyes. She must have seen herself in his reflection, and when she did her face slowly curled into a comforting smile._

 _"It's… ah, you have a kind face… Thank you, Ashen One. How gracious of thee"_

The Unkindled buried his head in the ground, gripping the eyes, pulled out of his memory and into his painful reality.

"I'm so sorry…. I'm so sorry" he whispered.

He clasped the ground, trying to pull himself up. But as soon as he tried Yuria put her foot down on the hilt of the sword and held him down.

"Give up already, this fight is over".

She bent down and began to cast a miracle.

"I… may have lost" he cried, "But you can go to _hell_ if you think I'm coming back with you!"

The Ashen One took his blade, and with the remaining strength within him, drove the blade through the slit in his helmet.

"NO!" Yuria screamed as the Ashen One's head hit the ground.

The Ashen One's other hand was still clasped around the Fire Keeper's eyes, he clutched them will all his might as his body became a grey mist. His body became like a wispy congregation of ash and sparks, slipping away from this world. Within the second, all that remained of him was the Dark Drift, which stood erect into the ground, and the Ashen One's blood which littered the battlefield.

Yuria could have sworn she heard him crying...

Or was he laughing?

* * *

Robin sat there, her mouth speechless. Ansem had killed himself, evaporated into that wispy smoke. He was gone… He was actually dead.

She could feel the stares of her knights, but it wasn't their stare that made her skin crawl. She looked over to the podium to the west and she saw Pudet stand up from his throne, staring down at the tactician. His disapproving gaze terrified her.

Was this it? Was her plan over?

The gate behind the mysterious shadow warrior opened, and out came the East Khan. He was waving his hand all around the arena and only a small portion of the crowd erupted applause. His young face gleamed with joy as he approached his champion.

The champion seemed dumbstruck, still staring at the katana's hilt which looked like it was floating above the ground. Robin had no idea what words were passed between the two knights, but Robin already knew that this knight of Torvus knew how to get under Ansem's skin.

"Commander?"

Robin turned her gaze, looking at the person who spoke her name. It was Frederick, who looked at her with eyes of worry.

Robin nodded her head, they should probably be leaving. She stood up and looked to her right and was immediately met face to face with one of Pudet's guards.

"The West Khan wishes to see you" he spoke in a gruff voice.

Frederick put his hand on his blade but Robin held her hand up.

"Enough blood has been spilt today. I won't be losing another knight if I can help it" she spat.

She nodded her head and left with the guard, but before she was out of sight she turned back to Frederick and gestured with her hands. The gesture looked vaguely like a bird flapping its wings, a gesture which Frederick knew. He bowed and collected the rest of the speechless group.

It wasn't long till Robin found herself in the same gate she was in with Ansem minutes before. Pudet glared at her, and she met his gaze with equal disdain.

"You just put a blood thirsty mongrel in charge of my country, I don't see how this could get any worse" he spat.

Robin said nothing in response, and in seconds they marched out into the arena to meet their new lord. As they approached, the woman in black was just pulling her sword from the ground.

Torvus gleamed with pride as he saw Pudet walking with his shameful defeat still fresh in his mind.

"Behold! The pathetic Pudet as he comes to bend his knee to me!" Torvus mocked as he approached the bigger man.

Torvus put his hands on his waist as he waited for the Khan to approach.

"Kneel" he hissed.

Pudet slowly slumped down on one knee, and as he did so, Torvus looked at his champion.

"You know what? For my first order as ruler, I want you to cut off his head" he said with a shrill.

Pudet's face winced and his soldiers drew their swords. But Torvus put his hand up.

"You're really going to stand by this un-pure filth? Put your swords down now and I'll happily forgive this transgression" he said with a cocky smile.

Robin shuddered at the man. He was cold, cruel and now he was ruler. She already knew that the knights were going to obey, it was natural for them to side with the man with the bigger army. They tossed their weapons and bent the knee.

"Good. You too tactician, I don't like the way you look at me. It makes me feel like you're... _defying_ me" he spat cooly.

Robin nodded her head and bowed, much to her own distaste. Better to suffer a small bit of shame than die for a petty reason.

"Yuria? Do my bidding and end this bastard filth" he said as he laughed.

Yuria turned to him and bowed her head lightly. She approached the Khan and drew her sword, the transparent blade sending a shiver down all their spines. Robin watched from the corner of her eye, this was it, Regan Ferox was surely going to perish now.

"Indulge me, Torvus. What is the sign of a good monarch?" the cool voice from under the mask spoke.

Torvus raised an eyebrow.

"Setting an example for those who are my enemies. Now hurry up and lop his head off" he said indignantly.

"What about your promise to me? I still have yet to find the Unkindled and retrieve what is mine" the knight named Yuria inquired with a serious tone.

Torvus scoffed.

"You're my servant Yuria, don't forget your place or you'll never get anything from me" he laughed.

Yuria bowed her head, and raised the sword above the bowed Khan.

With a clean movement, the Khan's head came off. It hit the ground with a thud and his body slumped to one side as blood pooled out of the hole. The crowd began to erupt in an angry chorus that rippled like a stone being dropped in a seemed to revel in joy. Yuria turned to Torvus and began walking in his direction.

"See? Loyalty will get you places people, stick with me and you'll be content beyond your wildest drea-"

The cut was clean, quick, and took everyone completely by surprise. Robin's eyes opened wide as blood spewed in all directions, the ruler's head lifting up from his corpse and coming down onto the ground.

His cocky expression still on his face as his body collapsed to the sandy earth.

"My loyalties lie with those who can help me achieve my goals, and your usefulness to me just ran out, my liege" she hissed.

Both Khans of Ferox were dead, all in a matter of seconds.

* * *

"Regicide! Torvus the Conquerer is dead!" one of his guards shouted.

In an instant, the Arena erupted into panic. The guards from both East and West surrounded Yuria with their weapons drawn. Yuria uttered a low chuckle as she bent down and prayed. Her body was surrounded by a small maelstrom with sparks and in an instant, she had evaporated into nothingness. The torches in the room flickered and the arena seemed to be swallowed into darkness.

"Up there!" one of the guards shouted.

Above them was a dark magic circle, dripping down from it was a congealed pale blue liquid. A clawed metal hand slowly embed its way through the darkness and a horrifying monster with a slim, armoured body emerged.

The abomination seemed to snake down, but it had the appearance of a human, albeit one with impossible contortions like that of a dancer. Her back was hunched over grotesquely, her face look looked like a grated helmet with a dark void behind it. She bore a veil which flowed eerily behind her.

In her hand, was a flaming curved blade that lit up the area around her.

The monster didn't make any noises, but upon seeing one of the guards she snatched one up and skewered him with her blade.

"It's a demon!" One of the guards shouted as he retreated through the gate.

The creature moved, each step echoing throughout the dimly lit arena as it trudged around with a sickening grace.

Robin stood up, and with her right hand drew a whistle from her robe. She blew hard into it, the high pitch sounding out amongst the chaos from the audience and the arena.

"Shepards! To me!" she called out as she drew her levin sword.

From the chairs leapt a group of 6 soldiers. They had their weapons drawn, ready to fight.

"We're here commander!" Frederick called out as he watched the abomination take sight of them.

He tossed her a tome and she caught it, taking a stance and facing the monster. Owain, Severa, Brady, Chester and Stahl all rallied behind them, taking stances against the creature.

"Get ready!" Robin shouted, running towards the blue veiled dancer of darkness.

* * *

 **A/N** : This website doesn't like long chapters (it gets really laggy) so I'll abstain from a A/N today. Next chapter is on the way, so don't worry!


	12. Chapter XI

Chapter XI:

The Dancer

Hundreds of people were pouring out of the arena all at the same time. Guards, civilians, warriors and peasants alike. People rushed out into the blizzard outside, stepping on one another and pushing each other out of the way.

But near one of the exits was a camp fire with a sword in it. It was the very same one that the dead knight Ansem had placed his hand over and did his foreign ritual earlier that day.

It sat quietly, calm, serene and seemingly unaware of the chaos around.

But even from the comfort of the fire, one could hear the clashing of blades, deep hollow footsteps and screams of combat from within the howling darkness of the arena.

"Frederick! Move to left and flank the beast!" Robin barked.

The tactician touched her book and sparkling golden magic circles appeared all around her. She cast her right hand out towards the hunched abomination and shouted out the spell.

" _Thoron_!"

She fired a blast of lightning and the beast recoiled from the attack. The creature looked at her and leap into the air, carrying the firery light of her sword with her. Everyone was shrouded in darkness and Robin felt the whistling wind from behind her.

"I have you!" a calm voice hollered as she felt someone physically pick her up.

The creature smashed the sword into the ground with a resounding explosion of fire. The flames shot out in all directions, temporarily lighting up the arena in amber light. Robin looked at her saviour, Frederick, and gave him a confident nod.

"Glad you have my back" she said as she dusted herself off.

Owain and Severa had been alternating slashes at the monster's legs, and after the leap toward the tactician they chased the beast and continued to smash their blades into the open parts of the armour.

"Where the hell did this thing even come from?!" Owain yelled.

"Who cares!? Let's just kill it and try to avoid being skewered by its sword" she shouted as she drove her longsword into the beasts side.

"Once we're victorious, they'll make today a holiday. The day Owain put down the maiden from across the void" he jested in return.

"You're an _idiot_!" she cried, leaping back from the beast.

An arrow flew right past her and crashed into the beast. She cast her gaze behind her and uttered a curse under her breath.

"Hey! Watch where you're aiming that thing!" she screamed at the sniper behind her.

Stahl rolled his eyes as he knocked another arrow into his bow.

"She really thinks I'm gonna hit her by accident? Jeez, what a brat" he said to the healer who stood behind him, staff at the ready.

Luckily so far, no one needed to be healed, but if the need arose, he would be there. He looked at the rookie, Chester who was firing his own bow at the creepy monster. He was capable, albeit inexperienced. If anything, Brady felt bad for the little bloke.

His first mission and he's fighting a creature that none of them had ever seen before, something out of this world.

Robin fired another blast from her tome and the beast glared at the dark robed maiden. The beast suddenly looked at it's left hand, almost as if it was having an epiphany of some knowledge that just occurred to it. The monster drove it's hand into the ground and a swirling dark mist appeared all around the beast.

"God, what the hell is it doing now?" she spat in annoyance, watching the beast sink its's hand deeper and deeper into the ground.

The beast drew it's hand out, unsheathing an equally menacing blue sword from the abyss it created.

"Owain! Severa! Split!" Robin commanded as she and Frederick backed away.

The two sword wielders saw the unsheathing of the creepy blade and ran in opposite directions. The creature swung the blades in unison, following into a spinning motion that seem to go on and on and on. It was like a whirlwind of blue and red lights that made Robin's head feel slightly dizzy, but she was pulled out of her trance by a familiar voice.

"It's approaching! We have to go, M'lady" Frederick advised.

Robbin nodded and followed her knight back away from the hurricane of ice and fire. The Shepards were lit up by the alternative light of red and blue, and for a moment, the beast reminded Robin of an entertainer at a carnival.

The monster finished off it's spinning dance and turned to face the archers who had been bombarding it with a constant volley. Robin fired a blast to try to draw the monster away, but even as _thoron_ shook the blue fiend, it continued towards them.

"Support! Disperse now!" she barked at the men.

Brady and Stahl didn't need her to tell them as second time. They immediately dashed away, but Chester didn't move. He stayed there watching the beast with large, terrified eyes. He was literally paralysed with fear.

"Chester! What are you waiting for!?" Severa screamed as she watched the beast tower over the rookie.

The beast raised her swords into the air, eyeing her prey with her lifeless cage eyes. Robin saw Severa make a dash for the boy, sprinting at full speed.

Right as the swords came down, Severa tackled the boy out of the way from the sword, but the combination of the two blades created an explosion that ravaged the ground, lifting the knight and the archer into the air and throwing them into the audience chairs.

Robin's heart rose in her throat. Did she just lose two more knights?

Severa popped her head up from over the audience balcony and leapt down, followed by a slightly burnt Chester. Severa moved with a slight limp, Robin frowned- there was no way she could have Severa _remotely_ hindered in her movement against such as beast.

"That was _too_ close" Severa complained as she looked towards the massive monster.

"Brady! Heal them up, we'll draw the monster away from you" Robin ordered as she moved with Frederick away from the two knights.

Owain moved towards the beast and the monster turned to face him. The beast drove its frigid sword into the ground, and from it a blue blast exploded from the earth tearing up the ground with it. Owain was caught in the blast and was lifted into the air and came down with a thud.

The abomination stretched it's large back towards to Owain, the sword already aimed right for the sword master. Robin uttered a cry and as she did so, she saw a shadow from the banisters leap into the air.

The being slammed into Owain, causing him to move over.

"Get out of the way!" the shadow shouted, right before aggro-ing the attack and rolling out of the way just in the nick of time.

Owain turned to look at his compatriot, his eyes widening like he just witnessed a ghost. Out of the dust came a knight who dawned beaten black and gold armour. Owain had seen many things, but a dead man come back to life mere minutes after was something else.

"Ansem?!" he coughed through the smoke and dust.

The knight was wielding his twin swords, both were glowing a deep, dark red.

"Come on! You must get away from the Dancer. Get out of here!" he said as he sheathed one blade and picked up the knight, and urged him to go to the tactician.

Owain did as he was told and ran towards the black robed warrior, looking back at his friend. Everyone who had seen what had happened stood literally motionless. Did he pull some sort of smoke and mirrors over their faces? Was it some sort of trick? Robin shut her eyes and thought, he had been hiding this all along, hadn't he?

The knight ran towards the dancer, who in turn looked at Ansem with the same dead glare she gave everyone else. She sporadically attacked the knight, but the knight seemed almost all _too_ familiar with the moves of the grotesque being and dodged them with ease.

Ansem slashed at the dancer's legs, and immediately blood began to gush out liberally, painting the black armour with its dark red blood. The monster recoiled and pounded the ground relentlessly, releasing the black abyss-like liquid into the area around it.

Ansem pulled back, avoiding the liquid and waited for her to stop. The second she did, he ran between her legs and in a spinning motion, sliced into both of her legs with such viciousness that blood pooled excessively onto the ground.

The Dancer reared itself in agony, and Robin thought that if the creature could scream, it would have. But as it collapsed and turned to nothing but ash and dust, the only thing that remained standing was the knight she had already accepted as a loss mere moments before.

He stood there, the mix of blood, steel and silver. The dark being which had been swallowing up the light from the room in it's turmoil no longer existed, and light began to pour from above showering the black knight with even more detail.

Robin approached the knight, stepping into the pool of blood.

"Yuria escaped, didn't she?" he breathed as he looked towards the light above him.

Ansem turned around and sheathed his swords, he took his hands and pulled off his helmet, showing a completely unblemished face free from any scars. His eyes still looked aged and exhausted, but his face young as ever.

"What _are_ you?" Robin breathed as she looked upon him.

Ansem looked around, peering at the other knights who looked upon him with fear and awe. His face seemed gaunt, but as he spoke, he never faltered on a single word.

"I am a nameless Unkindled, the Lord of Hollows who foolishly usurped the First Flame".

* * *

Robin sat at the fire right outside the arena where the 'Unkindled' had imitated the fire at the Shepard's Pavilion to a tee. He made those creepy bonfire's like his life depended on it. Robin had to explain to the man that after Yuria defeated him, everything went to shit.

"Seriously. I couldn't have imagined that Torvus would behead his rival. I mean, it was rumoured that he was the one who had tried to poison Pudet, but to kill him in public? In front of so many other witnesses? How did he honestly think that was going to go over well with the rest of the Khans?" Robin explained to Ansem who sat in silence.

"Perhaps it was because Pudet was a half breed" he spoke, then with a smile on his face, "maybe Torvus was just too young to understand the consequences of his actions".

Robin shook her head with disagreement.

"He may be young, but how does such a capable warrior do such a stupid political move?"

Ansem shrugged.

"Maybe intelligence on the battlefield doesn't translate to intelligence in peaceful times. In that regard, maybe you two had something in common".

Robin scowled. Just because he came back from the dead didn't mean he could compare her to such a naive boy such as Torvus.

They were _nothing_ alike.

"I've told my part, now it's your turn. And you have quite a bit of explaining to do" she said, her expression narrowing down.

Ansem nodded his head reluctantly.

"What was that... _thing_?" she asked, referring to the creature they had fought in the arena.

The Unkindled took a deep breath, wracking his head for answers.

"I'm not entirely sure. It looked like a conjured imitation of a fearsome abomination called _The Dancer of the Boreal Valley._ The one I fought in Lothric was an agent of Pontiff Sulyvahn, but the one here felt... _off_. I'm not sure what the people from Londor are doing in Lothric, but the fact that they replicated the _Dancer_ terrifies me".

Robin pursed her lips. Unsure how to ask the next question.

"How did you come back?"

"Do you remember how I mentioned the First Flame and how Gywn used his being to keep the Age of Fire going?"

Robin nodded her head, remembering the conversation they had in Anna's house.

"When Gwyn linked the flame, something happened to the world, a sort of _discrepancy_ in nature _"._

Robin listened intently as he explained about the curse of the undead, and how the people of the Age of Fire feared the accursed and imprisoned them, temporarily solving the issue. But eventually, the hollowed men were led by a famous prophecy of the undead to seek the First Flame and give their being to kindle the flame.

"So, you're telling me that, everyone in your world is.. like you? A _zombie_?" Robin said in a horrified voice.

The man rolled his eyes.

"No, I'm not a _zombie_. If I bite you, you won't become some undying monster. An undead is a man cursed with a dark sign, a symbol of a piece of the Dark Soul. Our curse is that we cannot die, no matter how much we want to. When we 'die', we revive at the last bonfire we kindled. I happened to kindle this one as we were entering, but I wasn't expecting to use it by any means, I just wanted to make the fire a little warmer for the soldiers sitting near it".

The knight cast a look at the other Shepards who were standing in the distance, watching the two talk. Ansem had requested that he speak with Robin privately, and rightly so. His story wasn't exactly sane.

"But as an Unkindled" he continued, "I am above an _Undead_ because I am born with the power to not just kindle the flame, but to inherit it's power. I am sometimes called the Ashen One, because I am born from the burnings of a disgraceful Undead named Ansem the Just, and the power of the Soul of Cinder".

Robin frowned. She wasn't terribly fond of these history lessons of his. The 'Ashen One' shook his head.

"I know it seems like a lot, but please, this is _just_ as weird for you as it is for me. I've... never had to explain this to anyone. It's like explaining the rising and setting of the sun, it's just... the law of my land" he admitted meekly.

Robin understood, she needed to pay attention.

"Why would this Soul of Cinder create an Unkindled in the first place?" Robin inquired smartly.

* * *

Ansem explained that after many cycles, the undead were doubting the flame; Prince Lotrhic, Lord of Cinder refused to light the flame. The Soul of Cinder sought to cheat fate once again by reviving those who already kindled the flame. Surely, if they had done it once, they would do it again? But no, most of the Lords of Cinder abandoned the flame, unconvinced that linking the fire was the best decision. That's where the Unkindled came in. He travelled to kill, slaying these Lords of Cinder and returning their remains to kindle the flame.

Or at least, that was the plan.

"It didn't take me long to have my own doubts. How is it that even a Lord of Cinder, someone who already linked the fire, would refuse to do it once more?"

"It was because being revived gave them clarity, didn't it? That or they felt cheated, because if linking the flame supposedly granted them death, and they could be brought back to life on a whim, what was the point?"

The Ashen One smiled lightly.

"Exactly. Apparently, there was a group of people who also thought the same thing. Yuria was one of them, and by associating myself with the warrior of Londor, I became a pawn of evil without knowing it".

Robin stretched out her limps and crossed her arms, shivering in place.

"If they were all gung-ho about ending the flame, how are they considered evil?" she questioned as she yawned.

"Because I had to do some terrible things to good people, Robin" he said darkly, staring into the fire.

"Horace, Orbeck, Karla, Eygon, Irina, and... _Anri_..." he paused at the last name, "I shattered their resolve and made them hollow for my own gain, one that was inherently selfish to begin with".

Robin learned towards the fire.

"Is that why you called yourself, Lord of Hollows?"

"No... it's.."

He paused, unsure of how to put it.

"Can I show you why instead?"

Robin thought about it and figured he may as well. She nodded her head and he undid the straps on his chest plate and moved it to the side. He got up from his rear and crawled towards the tactician.

She didn't move, she simply watched him move closer and closer to her. He stopped right in front of her, he reared himself on his hind legs so that his back was straight. He slowly reached for her hand, which she allowed him to take, and slowly drew it towards his chest. She looked at him in his eyes as he did so, her strained golden eyes looking into his tired ones.

Her hand eventually was pressed up against his chest, and from it, was an unnatural heat that was intense and pulsating at the same time.

She drew her face towards his chest, and pressed her ear up against it. She listened, and while there was a normal heart beat, there was something far more interesting residing inside him. The unnatural pulsing was reminiscent of the bonfire next to them.

"Is this... What I think it is?" she said as she drew her head away.

He nodded.

"When the hour of Linking the Flame came down to me, I took the flame for myself, wrestling the power of it and nestling it deep inside me".

Robin looked at him with a curious look.

"What happened once you did that?"

He sat back down, his back against the fire.

"Then" he muttered,

"I saw things that gave me a little perspective"

* * *

 **A/N** : Well that was a doozy, and now I have quite a bit of explaining to do.

For starters, yes, at the beginning of chapter ten, Ansem did kindle a bonfire near the entrance of the Arena.

Secondly, Torvus' actions are fucked up, and they are supposed to shocking. A trend in this story is that people are always out to break these traditions or trends and by doing so, they end up getting punished. Torvus, while believing himself to be the better Khan than Pudet just by blood, ends up committing a more insulting gesture with his actions as ruler, putting his entire claim into jeopardy. This is ironic because Torvus thinks Pudet is trying to break convention by his birth, but his arrogance causes him to do something far worse in comparison which shatters any modicum of respect for tradition. It's important to note that most of Ferox didn't take offence to Pudet being a half breed, that was a personal vendetta of Torvus. To make matters even worse, he is killed immediately, and now nobody knows who is going to rule. The throne is now up for grabs, and power will run rampant amongst the khans causing shifts never anticipated that may even tear the fabric of the country itself. It wouldn't be the first time national lines were redrawn either, because Ferox used to be made up of many other countries in the past before becoming one. His actions will have dire consequences, and even though Robin and Ansem allude to his actions being naive, even they aren't entirely aware of the events set in motion. Whatever the case, Robin's plan to control the country from the inside is set back because for all we know, Ferox may not even be a country anymore in the coming chapters.

Thirdly, concerning Ansem's tendency to talk a lot more in these last few chapters. Yuria is the only person we've met so far that knows the Unkindled from the DS universe. Usually Ansem is a reserved individual with not much to say, but only because he is surrounded by strangers and uncertain allies. His closest ally, Robin, wants to dispose of him as soon as he is done with the tournament, so perhaps he still has issues opening up to people. He is forced to play his cards carefully and close, never revealing too much information about himself. But Yuria is different. Yuria is not only someone who knows him _too_ well, but someone who he betrayed by running away with the First Flame and in turn, Yuria tortured the Fire Keeper to spite him. This was not only a physical crossing of swords, but a battle of minds as well, and the best way to fight with wit is to fight with words. I'll admit, perhaps he is a bit _too_ vocal, but I wanted to show Ansem in a fury, a maelstrom of emotion from a deep seething hatred to a deep caring for the Fire Keeper. I also wanted him to lose when the stakes were at the highest, why? Because that's what happens when you fight fate. But will it stop him from pushing on? Maybe, maybe not. I'm sure he'll be quite fond of another character who actually has challenged her fate with a degree of success, but she hasn't had a chance to meet him just yet.

Fourth, the Dancer. I respectfully accept criticism of the dancer because I honestly could have chosen any other boss from DS to fill in this role and because of my choice, I could be criticised for loose writing. And that's fair, I'm not saying it isn't but hear out my reasoning. Londor is capable of many things but recreating the Dancer is farfetched. But when I asked myself, "If Fire Emblem characters were to fight a boss from DS3 that isn't too important but not too boring, who would I choose?" My immediate answer is "Dancer of the Boreal Valley". It was either that or like, a generic Fire Demon. I couldn't use any of the Lords of Cinder and all the other bosses have huge lore implications. The two ambiguous ones were Vordt and the Dancer because in reality, no one is quite sure how Vordt or the Dancer arrived at Lothric and since you usually kill Pontiff before fighting the Dancer, there is no reason for her to be hanging around if she is really being controlled by Pontiff. Between Vordt and the Dancer, I chose the Dancer. The story logic is that Pontiff's beasts simply go rampant after his death, and even more so now that the Age of Darkness is in session. We never get a full grasp of all the miracles that Londor created, and summoning monsters might not really be above Velka's agents. It's just the summoning of _The Dancer_ than is seems like a stretch in my eyes.

Onto reviews concerns:

To Zaru, thanks for all the reviews! They keep me on my toes and give me that sinking feeling that I essentially need to better my writing. Also yes, I have heard of space battles and sufficient velocity. I don't really have a preference since I garnered interest in fanfic and originals far after the conception of the two and missed out on the whole feud. But they seem really cool!

To Chaosservant and Touhou is Life, I mentioned bonfires in the past, he just can't warp between them. Kind of like in Dark Souls One before getting the Lord Vessel. He still refills his estus flask, heals and rests, but he can't teleport because the link with the coiled sword is severed between worlds.

To Aruanamic, well that must have been quite the reveal! XD.

To Simple 405, considering how its definitely the Usurpation of the Flame ending, I think we all know what happened to Anri :(.


	13. Chapter XII

Chapter XII:

Standstill

The snow storm had finally passed, and a clean blanket of snow covered the harsh landscape of Regan Ferox. The arena looked completely untouched by the horrors of the day before, and slowly, powerful warlords made the journey to the place to see where they stood in the hierarchy of power.

The comeuppance was at first quite calm, some of the 'khan's' coming in mourning for the death of two of their strongest, even if one of them was a brute and the other one a sadist. But then the more arrogant ones came, the ones who saw this ripple in the pond as a time to flex some muscle.

Robin watched the few dozen men and women from the audience deck argue in the arena, shouting at each other about what Regna Ferox should do next. Some pushed the idea of a temporary council of rulers until they awaited the next years arena, others said that it was a tradition that needed to be killed off and they should just have elections that decided who ruled, others had even more ludicrous ideas that weren't even worth considering.

" _Votes_? What are you a pansy? Regna Ferox is a country ruled by the strong, not the diplomatic" a gruff woman named Hadia yelled out, getting a rise from some of the other khans.

"How can you be so obtuse to not see that someone who can be strong can also be diplomatic! Come on Hadia, we can't be stuck in the past" a slim khan by the name of Akoni reasoned.

A large man bald man clad in green stepped in the middle, wielding a large battle axe.

"I'll not stand by while our tradition is tarnished. This country and its ways will not be undermined by a little bit of blood" he exclaimed, not even posing a solution, simply wanting to input his opinion.

Robin leaned on the railing, Frederick standing beside her. The Unkindled stood on the other side of her dawning a fashionable mix of blue armour with a white shirt underneath. His normal brown slacks gave him the appearance of a knight with noble status.

Robin said it would be problematic if some of the other khans recognised her champion from the fight before, so his little disguise would have to do.

Robin turned towards the Unkindled, the argument below getting more and more heated.

"Your friend really threw a wrench in the system" she said cynically.

The knight lightly nodded his head.

"It's what she does best, believe me" he said coldly.

Robin turned back to the arguing group, hoping to make sense of anything that anyone was saying. It was a fruitless endeavour, but one that she still felt partly at fault for. Should she have chosen a different champion? Should she have just let Ferox sort out its own political problems and then tried to welcome them into her little chess board of politics?

Or was her little plan doomed to begin with because the nation of Ferox existed in the first place?

"Ugh" she groaned as she rested her head on the railing.

She needed time to digest everything. Regina Ferox was now in more political turmoil that it was in before, she had a legendary warrior who couldn't die, and now there was no telling if that woman Yuria was somewhere else, stirring trouble as she searched for her 'Chosen Unkindled'.

Someone was approaching them from the staircase next to them and out popped the head of Chester the rookie.

"I sent the raven, ma'am" he said meekly as he came to a stop.

Robin slowly turned her tired head, forcing herself to twist her face into a smile.

"Thanks Chester!" she exclaimed with a forced enthusiasm.

"You're welcome, ma'am. I'll take my leave now"

The short man went right back down the stairs and Robin resumed her normal sulking.

"Chrom is going be so freakin' confused he'll probably think the report is fake" she spoke aloud to either of the two men who might listen.

Frederick cleared his throat.

"Did you mention Ansem's… _condition_?" he said, eyeing the knight who didn't return the gaze.

Robin slowly nodded.

"Yes,

I did. Nothing stays between Chrom and I, for better or for worse" she sighed.

"So now what?" Ansem asked, getting tired of watching the crowd argue.

"Now we have to wait for orders. It's up to the Exalt to decide what we do next" she said as she leaned off the railing.

To be honest, she could have decided what to do there and then, but lately she was doubting her gut decisions. Nothing had been playing out the way she wanted so far, so now she was going to let Chrom have a go at the situation. Perhaps he had different insight from Ylisstol than she did, stuck underneath all this snow.

"I'm going on a walk. You two have fun now" she said as she slumped down the stairs.

The two stood in silence, eyeing the yelling crowd. It wasn't long till the two became acutely aware that neither of them were speaking and so the Unkindled broke the silence.

He turned to the taller man with his arms apart showing off the elegant blue shade of his armour.

"Looks pretty cool, huh?"

Frederick looked at it with a gruff nod.

"I _approve_ ".

* * *

Unlike Ferox, Ylisse was experiencing only a slight decrease in the overall climate. Far above the Ylisstol castle was a man with blue hair standing next to a girl with the same flowing blue hair as the man. The Exalt of Ylisstol watched the people wander the streets below from his balcony, needing to remind himself that he held this city in the palms of his hands, and lest he make a poor decision, people's lives could be lost.

Sometimes something so obvious needed a daily reminder.

There was a knock on his door and he turned his gaze towards it.

"Come in" he murmured.

A messenger came in, letter in hand. He walked through the large bedroom, looking at the elegant silver, gold and crimson sword that was mounted on the wall as he approached the Exalt. Lucina hid behind her father's legs, but upon seeing it was a harmless messenger, slowly poked her head out.

"A report from Robin, your Majesty" he said as he took his bow.

"Thank you, Xander. I hope the knights at the gate didn't give you too much trouble" he said as he entered the bedroom and drew a letter opener from one of the consoles next to the bed.

"N-not at all, your Majesty" he said, taking another glance at the sword on the wall.

Chrom met his gaze and followed it. He let out a chuckle as he moved to open the letter.

"The Falchion doesn't get many admirers lately" he said as he opened the letter.

The messenger took a long look at the gleaming sword.

"She's magnificent" he awed almost spellbound by it.

"She certainly is. I'm afraid she's going to rest up there until I pass it down to my daughter, Lucina" he said, gesturing to the girl at his side.

Lucina nodded her head humbly as she looked at the sword. It was almost as tall as her.

"My apologies, your majesty. I'll take my leave" he said as he took a small bow.

"There's nothing to apologise for. Be on your way" Chrom said dismissively as his eyes scanned over the letter.

The messenger exited the room, leaving the two blue haired nobles in the room together.

"News from Aunt Robin?" Lucina peeped up as she hugged her father's leg.

Chrom grunted in confirmation, confused by the report. None of it was good news, and most of it was dreadfully confusing. He rolled up the paper and moved back over to the balcony. There was still some hope. If Flavia was found, then maybe she could try to restore some order to Regna Ferox.

He quickly drafted a letter to Robin, giving her his orders. He then took another piece of paper and begin to scribble down more orders for someone else, a special agent he had in the field. He marched with his daughter following him out of his door and gave the letters to a butler who was in the hallway.

"This is urgent. Send these out immediately" he ordered as the old man took a bow and briskly moved down the castle.

Lucina looked up at Chrom.

"Are you sure everything is okay?"

Chrom bent down on one knee so that he was level with his daughter.

"Of course, Lucina. Don't worry, go and play with Cynthia for now, Daddy needs to think".

He could hold this thing together, he just needed to play his cards right.

* * *

 **A/N** : Now that the climax from the chapter 9-11 is through, the Shepards need to figure out how to fix the issue.

Things are convoluted things in Ferox. This chapter serves to just be a winding down from the last few chapters and lead into the build-up of the coming ones, which is pleasant change of pace considering all the things that went down.

There was a tiny Fashion Souls joke between Frederick and Ansem, and now the Unkindled is wearing the Mirrah Set from DS3, without the mask. It's a little more in line with the attire of the people from Ylisstol while having its own flair, allowing him to blend in easier with the Shepards and not stick out. It also shows a shift away from his Londor attire and maybe even reflects a growth in his character now that Robin has decided to keep him at her side... for now.

Tiny note, I got a few private messages that were disparaging me for _apparently_ making AnsemXRobin a thing and I'm confused because that wasn't the impression I was going for. It's not the case _whatsoever_ , Ansem has someone who he is deeply emotionally attached to and Robin has shown literally no romantic attachment to him at all. I suppose the scene where she put her hand/ear against his chest caused the uproar, but that was just to dramatically show that Ansem carried the First Flame inside him. I thought it was amusing to wake up to those comments while I was drinking my tea, especially because some of the comments were _extremely_ scathing, but just to clarify, they're not romantically involved. Robin's love story, much like her back story, is kind of depressing and frustrating to even think about. It'll surface on a rainy day, but not quite yet.

As a side note, I do have some bad news for once. I'm letting everyone know ahead of time that the pace I have been writing is going to slow down substantially now that college is starting back up. The daily updates have been nice, but I can't do them while being a functioning college student with a job. That's just the reality of things and I'll probably update every few days since I have the story board all set up, I just have to.. you know.. sit down and connect the dots with words. Hope this doesn't upset too many people, all I ask is for your understanding.


	14. Chapter XIII

Chapter XIII:

Of a Different Time

A fierce gust of wind blew across the plains of Ylisse. The moon was full and seemed to shower the meadows with it's white light as a lone figure moved across the land, woken up by a sharp noise that filled the night sky. The fireflies around her lit up as she moved through the field, eventually reaching a metal post alone in the middle of the grassy plain.

Perched on the post was a large black raven, it's eyes lacking of empathy. It crowed in the air as the figure approached it, but the figure didn't hesitate in the slightest. The figure outstretched her hand and clasped the raven's leg, retrieving a long, rolled up message.

It was sealed with a wax seal bearing the mark of the Exalt.

The woman pet the raven affectionally and the raven spread its wings, taking flight into the starry night above and disappearing from sight. The silhouette took the note and opened it up, her blue eyes scanning over the letter.

She turned away from the post with grace and ran, her clothes flapping in the air as she soared past the bugs of the night to a small wooden cabin that lay underneath the only tree in the area for miles.

She opened the door with vigilance and briskly walked to a chest she had at the foot of a cotton bed. She pulled out a blue royal set of armour and pulled it on, throwing her hair back as she approached her bedside. She bent down in the darkness and with her hand, reached underneath and drew a decorated sword. She hooked the sheathed blade to her belt and left her house with a decent travelling bag.

She wandered in the dark behind the house and approached a beautiful white horse.

"Hey, Siegfried" she whispered as she pet the combed hair of the horse.

"You ready to get to work?"

The horse breathed calm controlled breathes as she ran her gloved hands over the horse's body. She pulled a saddle off the dirt ground and hooked it around the strong beast. She clambered on and grabbed the reins.

She swung her heels against the horse's sides, spurring the horse forward.

The horse raced across the dirt road, kicking the dry road with intensity due to the fierce trust she had in the rider. She was a midnight rider, her cape and hair flowing through the wind, her white stallion leading her to the snowy north.

* * *

"So, then that story about the Giant was true? This is the Storm Ruler?" Severa said, her eyes widening as her face became flush.

The Unkindled and a few of the Shepards were sitting next to the bonfire and passing the time as the chilly night around them was easily displaced by the Ashen One's bonfire.

The topic of the Unkindled being immortal came up eventually and the Ashen One decided to show them a particular sword that he had retrieved from the Profane Capital. Severa held the sword, examining the rusting edges and the dull tip of the sword. It looked wholly unremarkable, even counter intuitive to fighting, but when Severa assumed the stance, the wind started to swirl around the blade.

She broke the stance and dropped the blade as soon as it started.

"Indeed, it is. But its next to worthless now" he said as he bent down to pick it up.

"You may as well brick someone than use this rusty piece of junk" he finished as he put the sword back into his bottomless box.

The Unkindled sat down, listening to the cackling of the flame.

"Well, I know the commander hasn't said anything" Owain mentioned as he took a place next to the Ashen One,

"but _we're_ glad you came back. I seriously was shaken up when I saw you fall in battle".

Severa nodded her head.

"I'll admit I've been a bit rough with you, but if I had known that I my last words to you were a little mean, I would have been mortified" she said, looking down at the ground.

The Unkindled nodded his head.

"Don't worry, my hide is thicker than that"

Severa smiled kindly.

"Thanks. So, um… what is it like? Dying, I mean?" she asked cautiously.

The Unkindled pursed his lips. Owain shot Severa a dirty look, clearly annoyed at the lack of decorum in her question.

"Severa, what kind of question is that?" Owain attacked.

"The kind of question _only_ Ansem would know the answer to" she said, her brows furrowing.

"It depends how you die. Oddly enough, it's just like any other kind of pain in this world- It's a pain you can get used to.." he paused, his eyes lost in thought.

"The hard part, is finding the will to keep going after you come back".

Severa's eyes opened wide.

"Whoa" she muttered under her breath.

"So you're saying dying is the _easy_ part? Good to know!" Robin said as she surprised all three of them.

"C-Commander!? Where did you come from?" Severa said as she jumped from the shock.

Robin laughed heartily as she took a seat at the bonfire. Severa's face was beet read from being shocked but Robin seemed content beyond words.

"God, I needed that… These last few days have been one hardship after the other. I think I need a vacation after this" she said, sitting elegantly at the fire.

"The raven came a few minutes ago. Looks like we'll be splitting up" she said with disdain.

None of the other Shepards said anything.

"Frederick will take Severa, Stahl, Brady and Chester back Ylisstol at the break of dawn, the rest of us will be rendezvousing with another Shepard near the wall" she said not looking at the Unkindled.

Owain looked at the tactician with a frown.

"So that does that include our mysterious knight of burning blades, yes?" he said a little seriously.

Ansem was surprised. How is it that the only person who stuck up for him in this army was the only person he had slightly humiliated? Owain certainly was a strange man, from the theatrics to his loyalties.

Robin sighed.

"Unfortunately, the Exalt wants him to come along. For two reasons" she stated

She unrolled a piece of paper that was like the one that she had shown the Unkindled in Anna's house about the report of how he blew through the Outer Realm encampment.

"First of all, he said that the mission will be exceedingly dangerous, and if what I said is true, then having someone who can't die would be able to strengthen the task force".

A gust of wind blew some snow around the group, but the strength of the bonfire kept them all warm and dry before any of the flakes could even touch them. Robin kept on reading.

"Secondly, he doesn't blame Ansem for his failure at the arena, but -in his own words- he should see this as an opportunity to compensate for his defeat".

Ansem nodded his head bitterly. It did feel like he had burdened the Exalt, but at least he had the chance to make up for his defeat.

Also, it meant that Robin couldn't discard like she was going to.

Robin let the thin paper coil up into a black cylinder and stuffed it in a side pocket in her robes. She could probably feel his relief from just sitting near him.

"And that's all he wrote".

"Who's the other Shepard?" Owain said as he laid down comfortably near the fire.

Robin grinned lightly.

" _Special agent_ in the field? I think we both know who that is".

Owain nodded his head, even Severa's mood seemed to rise from hearing that.

"It's been a while. Give her my regards when you see her, okay?" Severa said.

"We will. We'll be gone before you leave for Ylisstol, so Owain, Ansem, get some sleep" she said as she got up and headed back to a tent that Frederick had set up for her.

"So how did you guys join this army?" Ansem inquired as he watched Robin disappear under the flap of the tent.

Severa and Owain looked at each other, their eyes met with shock.

"We never told him?!" Severa said almost laughingly.

The two of them suddenly burst out into laughter which only further confused Ansem. For a moment, he thought he was back in Lothric due to the laughter incurred from such a simple question.

"No, you never have" he said flatly.

Owain looked at Severa.

"How should we even start?"

Severa scrunched her mouth into a thoughtful frown.

"Just start from the beginning" Ansem suggested.

The two looked at one another and suddenly stated laughing again. Ansem was getting irritated by this 'inside joke' the two had. Owain waved his hands in front of him, apologising for their antics.

"Sorry my friend, it's just that the _beginning_ of our story is the _end_ in some respects"

"Yeah it's getting too late for this story anyways" she said as she got up and went over to her own tent.

Ansem frowned, he felt almost cheated by them. He had told them hours worth of his story but when he asked the same they dismissed it with laughter.

"Don't take it personally. We just don't think _we_ should be the one telling the story. It'll make sense eventually, don't worry. I'll see you tomorrow, Ansem" Owain said as he also got up.

Ansem dismissively waved him goodnight and sat alone by the fire. Nothing but the howling wind and the cackling fire to keep him company now. He reached into his pocket and drew out two, small, silver marbles. He held the Fire Keepers eyes and meditated on them.

She is alive…

He had to go back soon, but did he have the courage to? He put them away and let his head slump comfortably down. He began to dream, dream about himself from another man's blue eyes.

* * *

 **A/N** : Happy Saturday!

We have a mysterious warrior clad in blue riding a white stallion receive who seems exiled away from society. Was it by her own accord or was she forced? Whoever she is, she has a personal raven post and just received a message from Chrom himself. She's pretty cool, but I doubt my own 2 cents is enough to really express that in an A/N. We'll just have to see how things develop with her.

If the last chapter was the winding down, this chapter is the winding up. Things are finally getting into motion again, but now most of the introductions are out of the way. This secret mission to save Regna Ferox is going to be vital to Robin's plan and she's going to make sure she succeeds so that her efforts aren't for naught. Thanks to Chrom's intervention, Ansem is going to be hanging around a bit more, but oddly enough, now that he is more accepted into the ranks, he feels the need to go back to Lothric to save the Fire Keeper from Yuria's implied torture which we've yet to see.

Will he stay loyal to the Shepards? Or will he be pulled away by his affection for the woman in black?


	15. Chapter XIV

Chapter XIV:

The Village

Long before the crack of dawn, Owain was awoken by his new comrade. The two left Owain's tent and came across Robin, who was already ready for the journey. The three mounted up and headed southwest towards the great wall that separated Ferox from Ylisse and Plegia, none of them muttering any words as they listened to the howling night and the ensuing winter.

The going was slowed down eventually as they came across bright red and orange lights in the distance. The three grimaced in their own way, but all knowing that the bright flames in the distance were a sign of trouble.

"So much for a direct ride" Robin muttered, turning her horse in the direction of the burning houses.

Ansem rode next to her, reining in his horse so he was parallel to her.

"We don't _have_ to help them, you know" he said with indifference.

Robin raised her eyebrow, her face locked in a disapproving frown.

"Is that what 'Unkindleds' do? Walk by scenes of destruction without doing anything?" she said sternly, almost to a point where she seemed to be angry.

The foreign knight shrugged his shoulders.

"First of all, if I stopped at every single confrontation, it would have taken years for me to reach my goal. Secondly.." he reined his horse around, towards the road.

"Not every citizen is _worth_ saving".

Owain felt the need to step in. What he was saying was way over the line. But before he could intervene, Ansem reaffirmed his place in the group.

"But it's not my call, Commander. I'll go with whatever you choose" he said nodding his head.

Robin grimaced lightly at his comment.

"Good, because we're going to save them. Let's go" she said, spurring her horse in the direction of the burning village.

Owain looked at Ansem with a tone of disgust, one that he didn't seem to take offence to.

"Have some compassion, for God's sake" he spat as he led his horse after his commander.

Ansem followed suit, charging next to the commander as they rode into battle. As they got close they could hear the shouts and screams of the pillaging, the kind that made Owain's blood boil.

* * *

Owain's horse leapt over a cindering wagon into the middle of town. He leaped off his horse, slicing right into one of bandits who was roaming the town square. He landed smoothly, majestically like an actor on a stage.

"Here I am, fiends of Ferox! My sword hand has come to rid thee from the innocent people and do justice to you ne'er do wells" he shouted, the bandits seemingly immune to his words.

The bandits encircled around him, but the warrior showed no fear, his eyes and scars showing a warrior of might, however young he may be.

As they attacked, Owain saw not their strikes as simple swings of iron and steel, but the attacks of men who were afraid of a beacon of honour and justice.

Easily avoidable like the fights in theatre, it wouldn't be long until Owain's blade sung it's own song and decimated the men around him. Such was his form, and his Mystletainn was going to smite these men of small ambitions.

Ansem barged out of one of the burning houses, his clothes stained with blood and his swords burning with blue fires.

"Come on!" he hollered inside the house.

A small family of 4 escaped from the crumbling cinders of the house and ran past the blue knight and into the town square. He followed suit and slammed the door shut, running into the square to join Owain in combat.

Owain finished the group around him with ease. Their attacks were too loose when they needed to be rigid and true, and then they needed to be calm like the wind they remained steadfast like rocks carried by rapid currents.

In essence, they were no match for Owain's fluid arts and unrelenting attacks.

Owain watched his ally fight, and he wasn't quite sure how he was bested by Ansem a few days ago. His fighting style was stylish yes, but there was a discrepancy that the trained eye couldn't avoid. His feet and his hands seemed at odds with one another.

His stance allowed him to roll and leap always, but his arms seemed to stagger just behind his feet. Come to think of it, his leg work was almost identical to the woman in black he had fought in the arena.

His twin long swords betrayed the fluid movements of his legs, and instead, he danced like an aristocrat, hiding his true face away with a style that is a fraction of his capabilities.

Owain grinned, pulling himself out of his imaginary world for a moment. Ansem was engaged in a simple practice of restraint, one that Owain wasn't sure benefitted him.

Ansem sliced his blades into a bandit and released his fires within the fiend, but it looked like he took no pleasure in it. His face, now that he could watch it, was almost locked in a state of disillusion. Was he even there? Or was he elsewhere?

Owain watched as he turned to him, his eyes locked in that state of apathy. Perhaps the two weren't that different after all, Owain with his theatrical reality and Ansem with his… _other_ one.

" _Hey_! What are you doing? We still have to clear another square, come on!" he barked.

Owain was taken aback. Maybe he was all wrong? He laughed a little on the inside.

"You got it! Let's go!"

* * *

Robin crushed a bandit with her spells, smashing them into the ground with Elwind. But the smoke…

It was starting to get to her.

She clambered out of a building, no hopeless family members in sight. She hoped that they got out in time. She looked out of the door, scanning for any enemies in sight. Her two knights were finishing off more bandits in the streets.

"P-please! Don't kill me!" the nearest one begged, getting on his knees.

Robin watched Ansem kicked the man down and put his flaming blue swords right at the man's neck. But as the man withdrew, Ansem pulled his blades off. He eyed Robin as he held his blades above the man's head, ready to plunge the sword into the man's pitiful chest.

"Well Commander, what's the order? Show a man mercy to learn or kill him?"

Robin scrunched her mouth.

"Bind him up and leave him. If he's not a threat anymore, leave him" she ordered as she ran to pair up with him.

He did as he was told and the two made their way through the town, him taking the blunt end of the forces while she provided support with her spells. Eventually they cleared out the last of the bandits and returned to the town square. Owain had caught two more bandits, and had them bound right next to the other bandit.

Robin watched as the survivors of the village begin to crowd around. There was maybe on a few dozen men, women and children. Their clothes tattered, their faces burned and their wills broken. They watched with hurt eyes, a few of the children cried as they watched their village burn.

"Please! Have mercy! We didn't have a choice!" one of the other bandits begged.

"Oh yeah?!" Owing spat as he sheathed his sword.

He picked up the man by his scruff and glared into his eyes.

"No one gave you a choice!? The hell is that supposed to mean?!" Owain screamed into the man's face.

"W-w-wait! We were starving! This is the third bad season in a row and our village had nothing to produce!"

Robin winced. Farmers? It was hard to deny that the last three years had bad winters, but to go from farmers to bandits? That was quite drastic.

" _Don't lie to me!_ " Owain hissed into the man's face.

Ansem glanced at Owain with a grimace. Robin had to act quickly before Owain let his emotions get the better of him.

"Owain! Stand down!" she barked at the blonde-haired knight.

Owain froze, exchanged glances with the commander, his grip tightening around the man's scruff. Robin narrowed her glare, and Owain reluctantly obeyed, tossing the man on the ground.

Ansem watched Robin with keen eyes. He was mentally scrutinising her, his aged eyes looking both saddened and at the same time, unsurprised. Robin saw one of the little girls who had survived watching the confrontation, her eyes watering as she glanced the men.

"Who's the Khan who owns this village?" Robin inquired into the crowd of villagers.

They stood there, torn and tattered, but one of the younger men there spoke up.

"Khan Araceli. She's our Khan" he spoke up, his voice hoarse and deep.

Robin returned to addressing the crowd.

"These men are prisoners to Khan Araceli now. We're not here to be executioners, let the constables deal with this" she said with conviction.

Owain seemed content with the procedure, his distaste seeming to dissolve with the concept of procedural justice. They would probably rot in a cell, or spend the rest of their lives making reparations for the mistakes they have made.

But unlike Owain, the crowd of villagers seemed to stir. The same young man spoke up, his voice slowly seething with anger.

"I've seen these three men before, Ma'am. We did trade with them and their village… A-and now they've taken what was ours and burned it to the ground!" he screamed, getting a rise out of the crowd.

Robin went to speak, but one of the other men in the crowd began to scream.

"Prisoner? I won't be able to even begin to think about reparations until these men get what's coming to them!"

"They will! But it's not for any of you to decide!" Robin interjected, the crowd surrounding her slowly and moving towards the three bandits.

"Let Araceli de-"

" _Fuck the Khan_! She's never even _been_ to this village before. She's not going to do _shit_ for us!" an old woman spat as she reached into her apron and brandished a sharp kitchen knife.

The once victimised crowd was slowly churning and contorting itself to become a violent mob. The men began to pick up sticks, some of the dead bandit's weapons, pieces of debris. But it didn't stop with the men. Their infliction of the mind spread to the women as well, and even the children who were picking up rocks. Robin almost drew her own sword but thought better of it. She would be protecting the literal criminals who had burned this village to the ground in the first place.

Before she could make any other action, she felt the tight pull of her waist away from the crowd. She first thought it was one of the mobsters but when she glanced at the assailant it was Ansem, making sure she wasn't in the way of the mob.

Robin didn't say anything, she just watched as the scene unfolded in front of her. To say the bandits were killed would be a vast understatement. The old woman bent down on one leg and began to drive the blade into the closest bandit's leg.

"This is for my granddaughter you bastard! Go to hell!" she screamed into the air.

There was blood, there was the breaking of bone, and no matter how much wailing the three bandits made, the villagers didn't stop.

The tactician bared her teeth, her head was getting hotter and hotter as the screams got louder. Owain watched with wide eyes, his face devoid of all colour. Robin undid her knight's grasp, and she stomped over towards her horse who stood peacefully, blissfully aware of the massacre in the town square.

She pulled her hood over her head.

"We're _leaving_ " she ordered in an angry murmur as hot, wet tears ran down her face.

* * *

Owain trudged behind Ansem as they were once again on the road. His mind was completely blank. Why did that happen? What exactly had just happened? He'd ever seen anything like it at all!

All the anger that he had been feeling was sapped out of him, replaced with an empty suspicion that perhaps, Ansem's hesitation to come to the villages aid was somewhat justified.

He looked over at Ansem and he was holding a pair of brass binoculars, watching the village in the distance. The sun was starting to rise, piercing the nightly cloud cover from above and the now cindered village.

"Want to take a look?" the blue knight suddenly said, still looking through the dual scopes.

He pulled the binoculars away, his body swaying side to side from the horseback travel. He tossed the binoculars to Owain, who caught them and… hesitantly… peered into the lenses back towards the village.

He could see the villagers moving objects outside the village. They were piling things into a large bonfire they had made on the outskirts of the village, visible from the road they were traveling as they slowly continued onward. Owain toyed with the focus of the lenses, and as he made out what they were carrying, his stomach suddenly felt sick.

"Heavens above..." he muttered, taking his eyes away from the heartless disposal of _their_ body parts.

He tossed Ansem back the apparatus and thought hard on what he had just witnessed. Did he just save a group of people who would become bandits themselves? Who were _really_ the monsters.

"I already know that Robin came to this conclusion, but this isn't all that strange, Owain" the knight spoke softly.

Owain looked at the knight, his face feeling slightly drained. Ansem's eyes seemed to take a serious glint, something that Owain had rarely seen.

"I'm sure you've seen great evils in your wars, especially in the Fell Dragon War. But…"

He paused.

"-when people lose what's most important to them, they… lose sight of their morals. Before they know it, their only claim _is_ their lack of morals".

Robin suddenly turned her gaze towards Ansem with a swift turn, her brows furrowing. She hadn't said a single word to any them since she ordered them to leave the village.

" _What makes you such an expert in how common people think_?" she hissed, her eyes livid with hate.

Ansem turned to his commander, his eyes holding a deep patience for Robin's outburst despite how Robin was his superior. Ansem had been around for much, much longer.

"Because in my world, where no one can die, _everyone_ is like that. The human mind isn't meant to deal with that kind of loss and trauma a-and.. and when you can't take it anymore.. you go _hollow_ " he said, his eyes narrowing.

Robin's eyes snapped out of the hatred, her eyes filled with a sense of dread.

" _Hollowing_ … That… That's the perfect word for it. I thought you were being a braggart, but I guess I was wrong. I'm sorry, Ansem" she said, her voice getting smoother, but still hoarse.

Owain suddenly felt a glimpse of hope well up inside him.

"If it's such a common affliction, then surely there's a cure right? I mean, _you_ haven't hollowed" he said with hope.

Ansem glanced at Owain with concerned eyes.

"I'm no different than those villagers, Owain. I stave off the hardening of my sanity by giving myself a purpose, whether it be my duty as an Unkindled or as a Shepard, I can only pray that _this_ , _this_ is enough".

He looked back towards the village, whispering to the air around, but more to himself.

"Lest I go hollow _again_ ".

The three travelled in silence, digesting the words the blue knight had said. To Owain, it seemed like Ansem was a pool of depressing words of advice. Quite the cynic. Eventually however, Robin broke the silence now that the village was long past them.

"I can't promise I'll heed your suggestions next time… But I'll take it into consideration".

Robin suddenly grinned, the first sign of any sense of recovery form the village. The other worldly knight turned to his commander as she spoke.

"But I promise you, one day you'll see a brighter side of this world, and you'll stop being such a cynic. I promise".

Ansem looked back towards the road, out of embarrassment of the statement or because it was where the village was.

"Were it so easy…."

* * *

 **A/N** : Another insightful chapter on Robin, Ansem and Owain as they journey.

The concept of "The hearts of man are darker than any monster" isn't new by any stretch of the imagination, but they do connect heavily with both worlds. As stated in the chapter, hollowing in the Dark Souls Universe is similar to the darkness in the hearts of ordinary men and women who have their livelihood taken, feeling cheated by the world around them. Being wronged is the basic fundamental to turning to a life of crime. Everyone has the capacity to be evil, yet you have to cling onto the things that turn you away from hollowing to become a functioning person in society.

This chapter is written a little differently because it's a combat sequence from mostly Owain's point of view. As I said before, everyone has their own style of seeing the world and it reflects with the way the words sprawl onto the page. Owain's point of view is almost like a expressionist flow of words rather than a methodical dictation the Unkindled is known for when he's fighting. Owain also takes note of the similarity between Yuria and Ansem's footwork, but like everyone already knows, Ansem once used a Katana just like Yuria does so it shouldn't really that big a surprise that their methods are similar. The comparison with Ansem's blades making him seem 'Aristocrat' is a nod to the western design of the Twin Swords, which juxtaposes with his quick feet of an eastern knight.

Robin shows a more vulnerable side of herself as well. I leave her response towards the mob up to interpretation, because it's complex in nature. She could be flustered from the shame that Ansem was probably right to be hesitant to go to their rescue, making her seem like a naive, petty leader. Or she could have just been uncontrollably saddened by the change of hearts, and needing to seem in charge all the time, she hides her tears from her comrades. Perhaps she thinks she should have just killed the bandits, and maybe the villagers wouldn't have gone all psycho; knowing that if she gave Ansem and Owain the right orders they would have walked out of the village as heroes. Regardless, she thinks she bears some blame for what happened in the village.

The conclusion is that sometimes, even if you try to do the right thing, you may end up hurting people than helping them; which is a key theme in the story. This leads back to the whole utilitarianism and deontology issue I posed a few chapters back and maybe even a foreshadow of how Robin will react if her plan doesn't come to flourish. Or perhaps, this is how she will react if her plan _does_ become a reality.

The last section is an interesting connection shown from the eyes of Owain. Ansem seemed like he knew exactly what was going to happen, which shows that he saw some parallel with the Undead Settlement and the village they passed through. In DS3 the place gives off the tone of a desecrate village full of savages, but that obviously gives the assumption that it was once a functioning society that misfortune struck, causing things to go all haywire. It's also important to note that Robin lashes out at Ansem for sounding like a know it all, but once he explains his reasoning, she takes it back. Ansem even makes note that he was hollow once, but doesn't elaborate on the comment. Despite the bleakness of the chapter, Robin does make a promise that Ansem would one day stop being such a downer, and perhaps, she will make efforts to make do on that promise. Only time will tell.

Well that was a long a/n, so I'll end this chapter here. Sorry for being a little late, but I had family come up to visit and only had time to write during the late hours of the night. I'll answer more reviewer concerns in the next chapter, promise.


	16. Chapter XV

Chapter XV:

Clad in Blue

Ansem and company had been traveling across the snowy landscape the entire day since the debacle at the village of the Khan Araceli. But as the sun finally reached its highest point, the _wall_ finally came into view.

Ansem had seen the wall on the way into Regna Ferox, but on this second view he took the time to admire it. It was beyond anything he had ever seen in his own world. The wall stretched for as far as the eye could see, and according to Robin, it stretched out to the entire continent. The wall was manned at some key points, but due to the massive size and the changing policitcs, the forces that manned the wall were spread thin.

Some sections, like the one they were rendezvousing at, were reluctantly abandoned.

As their brown horses reached the shadow of the wall, they could see a figure on top of the wall looking down at them. Ansem couldn't properly make out the figure as he glanced up at the silhouette, the sun shinning brightly behind the individual. Ansem shielded his eyes from the sun, and by the time his eyes adjusted to the light, the figure was already gone.

Robin hitched her horse onto a rotten post and the other two knights did the same in silence, neither of them interrupting the crunching of the snow beneath their feet as they entered into the abandoned entrance. But deep down inside, Ansem did feel a slight tinge of excitement. They were immediately swallowed by the darkness of the sorry structure.

"Let's have some light shall we?" Robin said in a caring voice as she cast as spell to light the dark.

They climbed the crumbling stairs and eventually, crested back into the sun light, but this time, above the snowy wastes that could be seen from all around the wall. Overlooking the Feroxian side of the wall was a slender knight clad in dark blue, far too slender to be that of a man's.

She turned around, her cape swaying as she moved, revealing a pale round face with a slightly narrow chin. The girl's blue hair could barely be called organised, with strands of hair falling all over the front of the face and gracefully falling down her back. What kept the hair remotely in place was a gold tiara that acted more as a headband than as a mark of nobility. As her blue eyes fell over the white haired tactician, her face exploded into a wide, warm smile.

"Robin!" she called out, turning away from the wall and running over to the onyx robbed Shepard.

Ansem couldn't see Robin's face, but judging by her reaction, it couldn't have been that different from the other woman's. She ran towards the woman with arms spread and when the two met, they embraced themselves tightly.

"You're skinner, are you eating enough at the outpost?" Robin said suddenly, with a worry so tender it was borderline motherly.

"I've had to ration this year thanks to the rough winter, but I've managed. How have you been!? I heard about what happened at Ferox, I should've been there" she said, lightly lamenting.

The two pulled away, still holding onto each other's arms. The unnamed warrior's face was locked in worry but Robin continued to beam at her.

"If you were there I would have been worried sick. It was a miracle we didn't have any losses" she said earnestly, releasing her confidant and left her arms fall to her side.

"Still, I could of at least contributed to the fighting." the blue noble said, returning the gesture.

The blue knight's eyes fell upon Owain and her face lit up with a smile, not as big as when she saw Robin, but it still carried the same aura of familiarity.

It was like they were one big distant family.

"Owain! It's good to see you! Still speaking your fanciful speech?" she said, running over to him and planting a strong hug around him.

Owing face turned a shade of pink but he remained steadfast.

"Of course! My speech's fiery passion is only matched by the skill of my sword hand. That is to say, both are of limitless!" he said, not stuttering a word.

The woman released him, her eyes glancing around past Ansem. She looked around him, her face confused, and then she turned back to Robin.

"I thought you were traveling with the knight in black, but all I see is you two and a valet" she inquired with a blank face.

Ansem literally felt the colour drain from his face. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to face palm or feel embarrassed- but it was hard to deny that the fashionability of the lucatiel outfit did look a bit… domestic.

Robin laughed at the Unkindled who stood there unflinching. Owain bellowed along with her and the two knights in blue stood there, not finding the scenario remotely humorous.

"N-no Lucina. The knight in black _is_ the valet".

The knight turned to Ansem, her eyes wide with shock.

"Him?!" she shrieked, drawing her hands to her mouth.

* * *

Lucina looked at the Unkindled and he took a slight bow. The air around them was heavy with awkwardness, but Ansem still followed through with the appropriate introduction.

"Pleasure to meet your acquaintance" he muttered monotonously, his face gaunt with the reality that he _did_ look like a valet.

This is probably how Frederick feels on the daily, he thought solemnly.

The lady bowed her head even lower, her face turning a slight tinge of red similar to her Owain from earlier.

"I'm _so_ sorry, please forgive me. I assumed you appeared a bit too posh to be knight, I-I should have known better" she stammered out.

"Sorry but we thought it would be best if he remained in disguise as another knight. I thought he looked striking, but a valet?" Robin said, her eyes still squinting from laughter.

The two stood up straight and the Unkindled accepted the apology. The blue haired woman approached and extended her arm, her back posture perfect.

"Now that is out of the way, allow me to properly introduce myself. My name is Lucina, princess of Ylisse".

Upon the introduction, Ansem's eyes widened. He took her hand, his eyes still in shock. Her grasp was light and dainty, but she shook with some strength.

She was Chrom's daughter?

She looked _far_ too old for her to be his kin, but there was no denying they bore similar characteristics. The blue hair, light toned skin and noble clothing did give it away, but the age was concerning nonetheless.

Lucina put her hands on her hips, her mouth turning into a confident expression that mirrored her father's to some degree.

"What's your name?"

* * *

As per usual, Ansem took some loose bricks from the surrounding structure to form a small circle, and using a flimsy sword he had taken from one of the dead guards who died in the attack with the Dancer, he planted it in the middle and conjured another bonfire atop the wall. As he did so, Lucina sat at the fire and unearthed a cylindrical container that she passed to Robin.

"Here's everything I could gather from the other outposts as I traveled north. I haven't taken a look at any of it, but from the size... it's safe to say it is quite lengthy" she said, almost feeling sorry for Robin as she pulled a dozen or so pieces of paper with words scribbled all over it.

Robin sighed lightly at the amount of work, but she quickly wo-manned up. She spread all the papers on the ground, using loose bricks as paper weights, and began to sift through the information. As she did so, Owain and Ansem sat and conversed about swordplay, a conversation which Lucina eagerly entered.

"I heard through the rose bush that the foreigner bested you, _Owain the Great_ " she laughed, a light grin on her face.

Owain rolled his eyes, Ansem didn't know what she was getting at. It seemed a little mean spirited to try to get a rise out of someone you haven't seen in a while, but perhaps this relationship was used to long time intervals between visits.

"I take no shame in being bested by Ansem. His style is unorthodox and his moves cunning- to the level of subterfuge... but there's no denying he did beat me fighting on equal grounds" he said, his arms crossed.

"I see" she said insightfully.

"Well it's good to know that Owain the Mighty is garnishing his skill with humility and that his days aren't numbered".

Owain looked towards Ansem with a sideways glance, his smile mischievous in nature.

"What would really be an interesting fight would be between the two of you".

Lucina turned towards Ansem as he simply stared into the fire. He could feel her blue eyes peering at every detail the way you would examine a prey. Ansem's eyes met her gaze, his face meek and tired.

"I could go for a sparring round. It's been 7 months since I've had a proper duel, so I could use the practice" she said eagerly.

Ansem dismissed the suggestion with a casual wave of the hand.

"I've done enough fighting for a day. You two can have at it though" he said as he scrunched up next to the fire.

Owain turned to Ansem.

"You can _never_ have enough training. Besides, you could use a new sparring partner. You need to have variety, right commander?"

Robin glanced up, clearly lost in thought.

"Y-yes?!"

Ansem looked at Owain with eyes of distaste. Was he really this desperate to see him fight this other knight? Robin looked down back at her work, completely uncaring of whatever Owain had asked her.

"I'm busy, Owain" she said with a tone of annoyance.

"Come on. It'll be fun" Lucina said as she walked around the bonfire, her open hand extended.

Ansem frowned but reluctantly agreed, grabbing her hand and letting her pull him up. The three marched down into the field on the Ylisse side of the wall and began to trudge through the snow.

Ansem marked out a circular area with his flaming sword, somewhat in the same vein as the Shepard's Pavilion training ground he and Owain fought in some time ago. He retrieved a pair of training swords from his bottomless box and tossed one to Lucina, who caught it with one hand.

"Thanks" she called out, her eyes glancing at his twin swords which he gracefully placed on the outside of the circle.

"Aren't you going to use two?" she said curiously.

Ansem glanced back at her, his eyes scanning her impression.

"Would it be fine with you?"

Lucina drew an impressive looking sword with the mark of the exalt near the hilt and carefully passed it to the yellow sword master for him to hold. He took it, nodding his head, and she was back into the arena. She placed the wooden sword in the scabbard, and looked back at the Unkindled.

"It wouldn't be a proper spar if you didn't use your actual fighting style. Don't go easy on me just because I'm a lady" she said with a warm smile on her face.

Ansem nodded his head, pulling out another wooden sword. He limbered up his body and stood completely erect, his swords not taking any particular stance. Lucina on the other hand, simply rested her hand on the hilt of her blade.

"When you're ready!" Ansem exclaimed, holding his swords at the ready.

* * *

Lucina's face shrunk to a fierce, concentrated frown. She dashed at the Ashen One with incredible speed that the Unkindled's eyes grow tenth fold, barely realising just how quickly her feet were carrying her. Snow was kicked up into the air from the sheer speed and the distance between them was closed in two seconds flat, her face right in front of his before he could even consider a deflection.

The blue blur unsheathed her blade, violently jabbing the Unkindled in the chest with her hilt leaving the Ashen One sputtering for air. The air was violently sucked out of his lungs, leaving him gagging on nothingness.

It all happened so quickly, and as the Unkindled was recoiling from the attack, his eyes saw Lucina begin to draw her blade out completely. She swung upward right out of the scabbard, her hand quick and tempered.

Ansem barely moved his head out of the way from the 'killing blow', and rolled out of the way just in time. He took a proper stance this time, readying himself for another surprise attack.

She craned her body, facing the Unkindled, her face still locked in concentration.

She was definitely less vocal than Owain. She swung her sword towards her chest and brought it perpendicular to her body, pointing the sword towards Ansem. With her other hand, she took a guarded stance protruding her elbow away from the Unkindled and in towards herself.

The stance certainly was unique, but Ansem felt prepared for anything. He needed to be on the defensive if he planned to win.

"You've gotten a bit slower, Lucina!" Owain called from the sidelines.

Her face broke from her concentration and her face got slightly red. She lowered her stance and spun to face the theatre knight, Ansem could see the sweat run off her face as she turned in the snow.

"I know! I don't know it it's the snow or if I'm just really rusty!" she cried, seemingly embarrassed at her lack of performance.

Her expression was a cross between embarrassment and shame. It was like she was disappointed in herself for not practicing enough.

"I don't think you are slow at all. I barely dodged that" Ansem consoled, his chest still throbbing.

Lucina turned to him, her face returning to normal.

"Thank you, Ansem" she replied, once again taking the odd stance.

"But this isn't over just yet. I want you to go all out on me! Ready yourself!"

* * *

Ansem didn't fare much better against her other attacks. The two traded deflections for some time before she suddenly leaped into the air, a good solid ten or so feet.

She front flipped countless times before coming down and crashing into the ground, a move that Ansem desperately rolled out of the way. The kinetic energy from the attack sent loose snow into the air, but by the time the snow settled the Unkindled was now on the offensive.

He swung his sword rapidly, each attack from each sword coming from a different direction each time. But Lucina was quick, her eyes watching his movements from his shoulders and was consistently swiping away all of his attacks. She was working twice as hard as he was to do so, but when he came in for the double stab, she couldn't block the entire move.

She took a slight hit on her torso, the wooden sword nicking her as he took the same stance she had before. Ansem did a short leap towards her and swiftly kicked her left ribs with his boot. She sucked in the hit and backed up, regaining her composure. Without warning, she suddenly lunged with a stab with blinding speed towards the Unkindled.

"Hiyah!" she yelled as she flew towards him.

Her speed was unlike anything he'd ever seen. She became nothing more than a blur and made contact long before he even tried to roll out of the way. Her wooden blade plunged itself hard into his left shoulder, the attack was so powerful the blade bent and as she followed through it splintered into a dozen or so crude pieces.

Ansem let out a curse as he flew back from the attack. Such a blow would have probably severed his arm clean off had the sword been real, but instead pieces of wood were scattered all over the his white shirt. The shirt was ripped and blood was slowly working its way down, staining the whiteness.

He limbered back and rolled away again, but as he landed the pain of the wound took hold of him. He lost his footing, tripping over himself and landing hard into the snow. The attack made his entire body feel limp and disorientated, and it took a him a few seconds just to get his thoughts straight. He could feel how his back landed on one of his swords and he even thought for a moment that the sheer force of the landing might have snapped the sword in two.

Instead, it simply bent it along the curvature of his back.

Lucina steadily rose from her attack with nothing more than the hilt of the wooden sword. She looked at the sword and then over to the Unkindled, tossing the shattered sword to the side. She seemed to have broken her concentration again, but this time, out of sympathy. Her pale face seemed to turn even paler at the prospect of hurting an ally.

"Are you alright, Ansem!?" she called out in a concerned voice.

She ran towards him but he put his right hand up, halting her in place.

"I'm _fine_!" he shouted, putting his hand up in the air.

The arm was probably broken or at the very least dislocated, but he could keep on fighting. Blood was now lightly dripping onto the snow, but he shook the pain out of his head. He tossed his right hand sword into the air, releasing the straight practice sword towards his opponent. The blade landed in the snow near Lucina. She looked at the blade and then back at the Unkindled, her blue eyes full of worry.

"That blow wouldn't have killed me, so don't consider me out just yet!"

Her worry dissolved into some semblance of admiration. She took the sword and lifted it out of the snow. Ansem took grasp of his other sword with his right hand, and using it as a support, he lifted himself up.

He wasn't quite sure how he was going to manage now. He couldn't go 'back to basics' as he had with Owain. This woman was on a different level, and if he limited himself to a basic technique, she would easily destroy him. His mind raced, unsure how he would maintain his fighting consistency. He looked down at his blade, seeing the familiar curvature that almost beckoned towards his heart.

He... could try using it as a katana...

He shook the thought out of his head.

 _No! I gave up that style for a reason!_ his conscience hissed.

He shot a glance at Lucina, she was already at the ready.

He held the practice sword in a tighter grip. If this was a real fight, he rationalised with himself, would you hesitate to reuse it?

As the seconds passed, his grip relaxed itself. He could feel the balance of the sword and while it wasn't perfect, it would have to do.

It's just for right now, don't go thinking you'll go back to using this anytime soon, he conceded in his mind.

Ansem turned his body, and for the first time in a long time, took his defensive 'hold' stance he used with the Uchigatana. He couldn't fight with his left hand, but he could use his hand as make-believe scabbard to hold the sword at the ready. Lucina came towards him, doing the same attack but this time even faster.

Ansem knew that couldn't have reacted on command, but his muscle memory kicked in and made work of the attack. He 'unsheathed' the sword in an upward motion, deflecting the attack upward with a deceiving amount of force.

The parry was unpredictable, sending Lucina lightly flying back from the attack. Her face was in surprise, her hair gently flowing down, then up as she came down from the force of the parry.

She was exposed, and if Ansem didn't seize the opportunity she wound't fall for the same trick again.

Ansem dashed forward, bringing the sword back into its imaginary scabbard before unsheathing it once more and releasing a horizontal strike that stuck Lucina right in her chest. A loud cracking noise emanated from the contact, but it wasn't the sword that had shattered.

She let out a loud 'oof' as she flew back, clutching her ribs. She slid a few feet in the snow, barley keeping her footing from the strike. The attack had knocked the air out of her, she fell to one knee, huffing and puffing as she recovered from the strike to her gut. Had had it been a real katana, a strike of _half_ that strength would have been fatal.

Then the blood would have followed. The Ashen One really hated how much blood would pour out after such an attack, but it was inevitable. He used to find it fascinating, even badass at one point, but after countless battles...

He learned to regard it with contempt.

"Good… strike" she spoke in a raspy voice, clutching her chest.

Her face contorted with pain, but slowly, after some time, she took up her stance. Ansem was surprised that a girl that skinny was so resilient, he definitely shattered a few ribs.

Was he going too far?

She was still up at the ready. He sighed reluctantly, feeling his arm still numbing. He one more hit should probably end it.

He dashed at her, his feet gliding over the snow. His cape around his waist whirled into the wind, his sword at his side. He leaped into the air, his figure blocking out the sun as he came down with the bent blade. Lucina threw her sword into the air and with the some inhuman strength, leaped up above the Unkindled.

Ansem landed, completely missing his mark. He glanced into the sky, expecting to see the girl in the air. But when turned to the air there was nothing but open blue sky.

Had he lost her!? How?!

He spun around, but as he turned and turned, all he could see was the snowy field and the scattered footprints left in the snow. It like he was alone on the field. He looked at the yellow spectator and saw Owain just standing on the sidelines, his arms crossed and his eyes fixated on the sky.

Ansem returned to look up, but by then it was too late. She had used the sun to mask her ascent and decent, and each second that he wasn't seeing her was a second that she was coming down from the sky in her stylistic front flipping attack, her sword clunking him on his shoulder as she came down. The force was so strong it knocked him down on his back, Lucina quickly recovering and took a standing position above him.

The Unkindled writhed from the hit, as he tried to reach for the sword that fell from his hand she held her own sword at his neck. He stopped in his tracks, gritting his teeth from the pain and from the defeat. His eyes ran up her body towards her face, which was still locked in it's concentrated stare.

They both breathed heavily, their breaths visible in the cold air. Ansem suddenly gripped Lucina's sword with his right hand, taking the blade in his hand and gently prodding his own neck.

"Guess that mean's I'm dead, huh?" he spat, his mouth writhing into a frown.

Wouldn't be the first time. He'd just revive and come back to finish her off... had it been a real fight.

Lucina's fighting mode slowly diminished, her mouth concocting a sideways grin of respect.

"I'm not so sure about that. That riposte would have probably killed me. Owain's right… You're _pretty_ sneaky!" she said as she drew her sword back and stepped to the side.

Ansem suddenly let out a shout of agony, causing Lucina to jump up.

"W-what is it?!"

"You stepped on my arm!"

Lucina removed her foot from his broken arm and began profusely apologising for stepping on him.

Owain suddenly laughed from the sidelines, clapping his hands at the performance. He entered the circle with a concoction in hand and tossed it to Lucina. She caught it, raising her hand into the air but her face scrunched up as she moved her ribcage.

"I'm not sure this will help much with the broken bones. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all" she said as she looked down at the small potion.

Ansem sat up, his hand reaching for his orange bottle. He took two mouth fulls of the drink. In mere seconds his body healed itself and he stood up, flexing his left arm. His clothes were still slightly pink from the fight.

Lucina looked at the magical potion with amazement. Ansem saw her curiosity and wondered why he had never bothered to share any of it with the other Shepards. He tossed her the bottle, and she took it and looked at it, her gaze running back to the Unkindled.

"Is it safe?" her raspy voice inquired.

Ansem reconsidered. _Was it safe_? He had never heard of anyone but an Undead or an Unkindled drinking from the flask and he wondered if perhaps she _couldn't_ drink from it. He knew the nature of the estus within, but there was no guarantee she wouldn't feel sick.

 _Could it kill her_?

To him it was an ambrosia, but to her, it could be poison.

He didn't want to risk it. He instead reached into his box and retrieved a golden bottle with intricate designs running up and down the sides. Inside was clear water with a golden aura. It was one of three divine blessings he carried, and while it was much more valuable than the estus, it was something he was certain would work.

"Drink this instead. Its water mixed with blessings of a Goddess. It taste kind of… odd, but it'll probably do the trick" he said as he uncorked the bottle.

Lucina took and smelled the bottle. He wasn't sure what she was smelling, but after letting the aroma dance under her nose, she took a small sip. Her eyes widened and she quickly downed the rest.

"It's really… smooth" she said as she pulled the bottle down, admiring the design of the container.

Owain looked at her with a worried gaze, but after a few seconds she stretched up, closing her eyes as she did so, and then relaxing her body. She touched her chest and with a satisfied smile, giving her rib a weak beat with her fist.

"I'm not sure what on earth that was but it did the trick. It felt like I was healed by one of Brady's spells… Thank you" she said as she gave the bottle back to Ansem.

Ansem dismissed the gratitude, grabbing the bottle and putting it back into storage.

"It's the least I can do" he chuckled, "You're the only Shepard who has beaten me thus far".

* * *

 **A/N** : Now that Lucina is _back_ in the story, which was heavily hinted a few chapters ago, the dynamic of the story is once again shaken up.

Owain and Lucina have an interesting sort of relationship that I feel isn't fleshed out that much in Awakening and I think that's a little sad. They're the only two future children that are guaranteed to be of royal lineage (the other's are dependant on who marries Chrom, so in this story, Cynthia is Lucina's sister but if Sumia marries someone else Cynthia won't have the Exalt's blood) and their support conversations are bogged down with their character tropes and don't reveal that much about how they see each other as _people_. I'm not saying that's necessarily bad, I'm just saying that when their supports only consist of Owain being all theatrical and Lucina allowing him to inspect the Falchion, you sort of lose out on seeing their personality outside of their main tropes.

I'm not going to go into much detail in this A/N about Lucina or why she was living in that outpost all by herself, I'll let readers speculate why and in all honesty, since most people foresaw Yuria being a major antagonist, I imagine they'll catch on pretty quickly. There is definitely a common theme where some of the future children have been distancing themselves from the Ylisstol as they are being born in this time line, and maybe that explains why Lucina herself left to be a lookout. But it is important to note that she is much _closer_ to Robin than she is with Owain and maybe that has something to do with her exiling herself...

Lucina is pretty fun to write about, especially her fighting. I made the attacks that Lucina used to beat Ansem skills from Awakening. She used the more stylish version of _Aether_ to finish him off and her quick attack that handicapped Ansem was the skill _Luna_. Lucina is always portrayed as pretty light on her feet in pretty much all of her fighting cutscenes which I had to analyse to get a grasp on her overall technique, so I wanted to evoke that in the sparring scene. The Unkindled finally showed his katana skills, using the 'hold' parry from the game as well as the 'hold' light attack as his riposte. I already talked about the usefulness of the katana in accordance with Londor knights, and showing how quickly he could have made mince meat of Lucina shows just how deadly these weapons can in the hands of a hollow warrior. His hesitation to use the style is pretty interesting to note though...

On a side note, I was a little late on this chapter because I had a series of social events to attend before college. After coming back tired from these social events, I don't have the same commitment nor attention to detail I usually have, and I would rather not drop my standards in order to meet time frames. I'm not complaining, I just don't want the quality to drop due to my other commitments. If it needs more time, it'll take more time. Sorry!

On top of that, this chapter was going to be the longest one yet, bordering around 8,000 words and I thought that was way too much! I cut it in half and made it into another chapter so it should be out sooner rather than later.


	17. Chapter XVI

Chapter XVI:

Exchange

They returned to the camp on the wall and Robin was still rummaging through the materials Lucina had given her when they arrived. The sun was starting to set and a cold night began to creep up on the wall and the group was shadowed by the jet black sky.

Fortunately for the posse, Ansem's famous bonfire warded off the cold.

As they gathered around the bonfire, Lucina watched the knight's clothing. It was almost as if by sitting at the fire, his clothes had cleaned themselves of any dirt that accumulated on him. It just seemed to evaporate off him. She didn't see him clean it nor stitch it, and she was left in awe. Yes, the bonfires were curious indeed, and the fact that he still hadn't mentioned any of its special properties made it clear that he kept many close secrets.

She had pushed for the spar for a reason. Father had once said that you could tell a lot about a person when you cross swords with them, and the fiercest warriors carried with them the scars of their life into the way they fought. This blend between personality and fighting style was imperative to achieving your full potential, and the way this foreign warrior fought certainly told many things about him.

Most of them _worrying_.

The drink he gave her felt… holy. There was no way to explain how something could feel smooth, bitter and intoxicating at the same time because she had never had anything of the same qualities. But it had healed her completely, even removing the little pains; like how her rear had been getting sore from riding a horse for two days with almost no stops.

She felt like she had been reborn.

She shook her mind free of the drink. That was the least concerning thing about this knight. He adapted like night and day, and he didn't seem remotely scared from Aether or Luna.

But maybe that was to be expected from someone who, according to Father, _couldn't die_.

She shuttered at the thought. She looked up at him and watched how he seemed to be lost in thought staring into the fire. His eyes had a tinge of grey around the pupils, like an old man's.

"Ansem" Robin spoke, rubbing her eyes as she looked up from the papers.

The blue knight's head rose slightly, acknowledging that he was being addressed.

"What can I do for you, commander?" he breathed with new life, invigorated of the energy of the bonfire.

Robin looked at Lucina, when they made eye contact Lucina felt at complete ease. The history they shared created a bond that was couldn't be severed by petty discourse, and Lucina could guess that Robin was going to give Ansem the order to relay his trust to her.

"Lucina and I go far back" she began, still not taking her eyes off of her.

"and while your story may seem bizarre and lengthy, I need you to tell her the whole thing. I trust her like a daughter, so anything you could trust with me, you can trust to her".

Lucina saw Ansem let out a sigh. He must have shared his story multiple times and the unfairness of the order seemed weighed down heavily on his mind, for sure. Lucina was quick to retort the order, with perhaps a better proposal.

"Robin, I'm sure that Ansem has been bombarded with questions quite frequently. Why don't we let him have a chance to learn about us?" Lucina asked in a kind voice.

Robin glanced at her, considering the proposition. Lucina had no idea what was running through her head, but she hoped she would at least hear her out. How much could the man have told her anyways?

 _Surely_ not that much?

"You know what, that's actually a good idea. Why the blazes didn't I think of that?" she said as she touched her chin with her hand.

Lucina suppressed any hopeful glances, trying to look professional. _Emphasis_ on trying.

"Well, Ansem. I concede to Lucina. Ask her whatever you wish… I'll just… go back to this" her voice trailed off as she returned to look at the information Lucina had given her.

Lucina lightly laughed to herself as she saw Robin return back to ruminating in the work.

Gods, how she missed her.

"Alright, I finally get to ask some questions" he said as he glanced towards Owain.

Owain was examining the Falchion and he looked towards Ansem. He then looked at Lucina and nodded his head.

"I promised that you'd be the one to tell him about _us_. Severa and Brady also agreed that if someone ought to tell him, that person should be you".

Lucina frowned. So he had met some of the other future children. How should she even start this kind of story?

"You seem far to old to be the daughter of Chrom. What's the story behind that?" he questioned, his grey eyes narrowing with curiosity.

Ah… _Of course_ , how typical for him to take notice of her age first. Well at least it was close to the mark, but still a little uncouth.

"That's because I am not from this time. What if I told you that there is a Lucina who is living out her childhood surrounded by loved ones, right this very moment…. would you believe me?"

Ansem didn't even flinch, his eyes fixated on Lucina with a perceptive stare.

"Yes" he muttered, his eyes dancing with the reflection of the bonfire between them.

Lucina grinned, she shuffled over closer to the foreign knight so that the fire wasn't between them.

"Well that's a relief, because the story gets a whole lot easier to explain now that you at least believe that part".

* * *

She did her best…. That's for sure. Everything from her point of view; time travel falling into the world, Ferox, the Ylisse-Plegia War… But as she began to talk about the war with Valm, she was interrupted.

"Can you do it again?" the foreigner spoke, his eyes gleaming.

Lucina stopped speaking, peering into the man's eyes. She saw a shimmer of emotion that ran down her body like a ice cube slowly sliding down her back, making her shudder lightly. His eyes were hungry with lust, not for some-one, but rather for some-thing.

"No… Unfortunately the power to travel back is lost to me. It was strictly lost the moment I travelled back to the past. As long as Grima, the Fell Dragon no longer exists on this plain nor on others, Naga will never grant me the power to rewrite history again. That's just the painful reality…" she said adding a hint of regret.

Ansem looked visibly frustrated as he gave up his inquiry, but in truth, if Lucina could go back she would have done it years ago. They had lost so many people, and if she could do it again… maybe she could save the person who invaded her nightmares and wet dreams alike.

She clenched her fists, hugging her legs to her chest. She remembered the days she spent with him like they were yesterday.

"Naga's power isn't something that can be used for trivial matters. She used her power to save the world, and none of us would ever dream of using it for our own personal gain" Robin said confidently, still looking at her papers.

She lifted her head briefly to exchange a nod with Lucina. Lucina looked over to her and nodded in return. Robin was good at covering for her.

She always has… always will be.

Lucina finished telling enough of her story, stopping at when they gathered the stones for the Fire Emblem and fought the Fell Dragon. Ansem sat patiently, and when she finished, he seemed to sit still digesting her tale. He didn't seem to tremble or even look at her with any sort of skepticism.

Father was right, he _was_ an odd one.

"So, why don't you live at the Castle with Chrom? Surely you could take another identity and help out around the capital?" he said softly.

Lucina frowned. Could he really not tell why?

"I love my father" she breathed,

"but it isn't fair for me to get to live out my other self's reality. She deserves to grow up in a peaceful world without a relic of the destroyed world".

Robin glanced up from her work and watched her with concerned eyes. Owain said nothing, he simply stared at the ground with his face scrunched into a sad frown.

"I owe mysel- _her_ … I owe her that much".

Anime crossed his arms. He reclined slightly, extending his legs closer to the bonfire.

"I suppose you can't have your cake and eat it too" he whispered coldly.

Lucina shot him a glance of resentment, but he didn't seem to mind her glare. The word _Bittersweet_ didn't even begin to understand the hardship that befell her, Robin, and everyone else who was tethered to this world by the war…

"Well, Lucina held end of the bargain. It's your turn, Ansem" Robin interjected.

The knight nodded his head lightly. He curled up one leg and sat casually, staring into the fire. He took a large deep breath and eyed Robin and Owain. Robin went back to the papers and Owain drew one of his own swords and began to inspect it for any damage.

It was just between the two of them now.

"It all began with the Age of Ancients….."

* * *

It was deep into the night by the time Ansem had come close to finishing his tale. It felt like a fantasy, filled with Gods, heroes, hollows, kings and lost dreams.

When he spoke about battles, it sent shivers down Lucina's spine. He described knights of darkness, giant kings, devourer of gods and bonded princes; all with a resolve broken by the sharp bladed warrior who was supposed to link the fire once again.

His companions were bizzare, from the onion knight, the kind hearted knight from Astora and her mute friend, and a blind mistress guarded by a fierce, stoic knight who despite his resentment for the mistress, guarded her with his life.

But there was something odd that she couldn't put her finger on.

There were large gaps in his story, such as what happened to these companions. She had a feeling that Ansem was purposefully avoiding their story's ends…

But out of all of his companions, the person who seemed to captivate Lucina the most was his beloved Fire Keeper. The way he spoke about her made her fingers slightly tingle along with the rhythm of his words, and the beating of her heart skip lightly.

I guess even someone as cold as him can also fall in love, she thought with a warm smile.

He was just explaining how he had returned the remains of all the Lords of Cinder to their thrones, and when he had awoken, he was in an entombed, lightless Fire Link Shrine all by himself.

But he paused his story, glancing over to Robin and Owain. Owain was fast asleep and Robin was peacefully seated near the bonfire, her head slightly hung in a deep, well deserved slumber.

"What's your real reason for coming out here. Are you simply just a messenger... or does Robin and Chrom have something else planned?" he inquired, his voice getting darker and darker.

Lucina narrowed her stare, fixating on his glare that emanated from the question.

"What could possibly be more important than finding the rightful leader of Regna Ferox?" she retorted.

His glare became more intense.

"If it were actually a pressing matter, we would be traveling in a bigger group. Normally it would be logical for a search group to be small and quick, but I rode with the Shepards non-stop for days" he explained.

"Mobility is the Shepard's forte. All the knights are excellent riders, but for some reason, Chrom saw fit to separate us from the group and send us on a _secret_ mission. Don't you think that's... _odd_?".

Lucina didn't smile. This was worrying, and she promptly let hand gracefully rest on the hilt of her Falcion.

"Maybe we're not the only group that is looking for Flavia. Splitting us up into multiple forces to cover more ground makes sense- there's nothing suspicious about that, Ansem" she breathed calmly, ready to strike him down at any moment.

He didn't seem to sense her apprehension, and if he did, he didn't seem to pay it to mind. He just glared at her eyes, his pupils seething with disdain that was masked by his story.

"That's not what I'm concerned about" he continued.

"It's _you_ I'm concerned about".

Lucina's grip tightened. But her voice was still as calm and collective as ever.

"Why would you have any concern about me? My place here is simply to make sure that Flavia gets back safe and sou-"

" _Bullshit_ " he interjected.

She winced, she fought the urge to strike... She prayed that he didn't catch on because it would make this entire journey more difficult.

"Robin hasn't trusted me since the day I arrived here and suddenly she has me running a secret mission? No... I'm sure that my failure at the arena was enough to sway Chrom's trust in me, a fact that Robin took advantage of. She probably convinced him that I was too dangerous to be around the other Shepards, and that I needed to be kept in line-" he objected, his eyes suddenly looking down at her sword.

"-and who else to do it than Chrom's best".

The silence fell over them once again. Her mission was out in the open air. The veil of darkness around them was heavy, and Lucina waited for the foreign knight to make a move.

But time passed, and in the end, he didn't even flinch. He just sighed a disappointing sigh and laid down on his back to stare at the night sky.

"You're not going to try to run or fight?" she inquired, still keeping her sword at the ready.

Ansem frowned, his eyes looking towards the princess.

"Where would I go? Back home? I wouldn't even how..." he laughed darkly.

Lucina released the hilt her sword and crossed her arms. She sense no lie.

"You're not entirely right you know" she said bitterly.

"Oh?"

Lucina glanced over to Robin.

"It was Robin who suggested I come along, not Chrom. Fa-.. Chrom still has faith in you. I'm here to be your handler... but also" she added with conviction,

"I'm here to fight by your side if that woman in black shows up again".

He nodded his head, not muttering anything in response.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered callously.

Lucina considered the question.

"No... not yet. But if Chrom sees something in you, I will try to as well" she answered honestly.

"Seems like all I've done since I've arrived is try to earn people's trust" he frowned.

Lucina pitied the man. She remembered how she felt when she had to operate from the shadows before the other Lucina was born. Every night she wondered if what she was doing was the right thing...

"Speaking of which, how did you come here?" she suddenly inquired.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you tired of hearing me speak for one night?" he laughed genuinely.

She smiled.

"I suppose. But I'm actually supposed to keep watch over you at all times. Tomorrow Owain will do it and the next night, Robin... Just in case you decide to do something" she said honestly.

"Well I suppose if I'm going to earn your trust, I may as well be honest" he said, lifting himself back to his sitting position.

He began to tell his story again, explaining how he emerged from that darkened shrine, the ruined world spread out in all directions. The ash at his feet cracked with each step as he ventured into the light, and as he glanced up, the eclipsed sun's blood red rays seemed to spread out across the grey earth. He turned around and saw the entire world he knew swallowed up, pieces of Lothric castle, the Cathedral of the Deep, even the Archdragon Peak. The congregation was grotesque, and he knew that the final battle was at hand.

It was the last few hours of the Age of Light, and when he peered back at the sun in his black armour, his katana at his side, he could't help but notice that the sun looked just liked the curse that binded him.

* * *

 **A/N:** The story isn't dead, I promise! I had to undergo a 2 week long training session for college and I never had any time to write. I won't go into detail, and I like to keep my personal life out of my writing, but at the same time to just dismiss the long wait seems disrespectful to the readers. Just know that I will slow down but the writing won't stop!


	18. Chapter XVII

Chapter XVII:

The Fate of the Unkindled

The flaming beast's roars were like hollow screeches, and each strike that the trio of hollows landed sounded out into the dead air with a menacing tone. But after what seemed like hours of toil, the Soul of Cinder proved nothing more than a mere hurdle for the Unkindled and his two summoned companions. The battle beneath the Eclipse was nothing compared to the Lords of Cinder he had to fight, and as the embodiment of the First Flame was trampled on by the Lord of Hollows, Yuria of Londor and the Pale Shade; the hollows of the world began to converge on the land.

The Ashen One approached the final tiny fire in this.. t _his_ … terrible world, and he cast his hand onto the fire and it enveloped his hand. His empty brown eyes looked at the fire with a sense of lust and hunger that made his wrinkly hands shake, his fingers made it's way over the wispy fire.

He caressed it as began to ignite his body, but instead of allowing it to, he brought the tiny flame into his chest.

He pressed it hard, falling to his knees as he clutched the fire into his bosom. It burnt hotter than any fire he had been singed with in the past. He closed his eyes and grit his teeth to mask the excruciating pain.

How amusing it was, that after all the battles he had fought, this tiny red ember was going to tear him apart from the inside.

But he didn't come this far to lose to any wisp.

His head rested on the ash ground, and as he tried to find the strength to quell the flame, he could hear a faint calling next to him. It didn't sound anything like Yuria, and the Pale Shade never spoke, but all the same he opened his eyes to see if it was another Heir of Fire. But instead of seeing the landscape of the Kiln he saw a throne room, one that seemed hauntingly familiar with it's watery reflection pool in the middle.

" _You're not a true Monarch! You're nothing more than a Giant Tyrant!"_ the voice screeched with hatred _._

 _In response to the separatist, a deep voice boomed and echoed through the King's chamber, and the hundreds of hollowed nobles huddled with fear as he bellowed to his subordinates._

" _If that's entirely true, why is it that I have appointed you with a Storm Ruler?! What more must I do to earn your trust?! I have fought countless wars! I-" Yhorm denounced as he stepped down from his throne._

 _He stopped, watching the humans and hollows cower alike. They huddled together, bound together by their hatred and resent for him._

" _We'll continue this council later. Begone for now" he muttered in a low, calm voice._

There was a dusty mist that enveloped the air around the Unkindled, and as his eyesight failed him, he could hear new voices booming in his head. This time, he felt cold, scared, and the light sensation of holy garbs draped around his tall, slender body.

" _Water… Water in all directions… Or is it sand? Is this what lies beyond the eternal flame? Sybil… I need to learn more from the young boy. Give me some time with the young God- Eventually I will find a way…"_

" _That won't be necessary" the deacon said as she held the bound up Dark Sun._

" _With a simple draught of this", the deacon announced, a sickening grin spreading onto her face, "he will be more than a source of information. You will be able to consume him entirely, Aldrich"._

 _He nodded his head and took the potion in hand, his grey eyes glancing back at his servant._

 _The prospect of becoming more than man…_

" _I have long since forsaken my beliefs, Sybil… I hope someone will forgive us; because the Gods won't" he whispered just before he knocked his head back and drank the purple sludge._

The mist returned, and just as he thought he would feel sick from the liquid, Ansem felt a cold emission from his chest. The liquid was no longer the thick drink it was, now it was smooth and extremely warm.

 _It was blood._

" _You are now one of us, Alonso. Rise your head." a voice whispered into his ear._

 _Alonso opened his eyes, the goblet still in his hands. He set it down and looked around to all the other Watchers. The fires of Carthus all around them. After such a conquer, it was only natural to name another Watcher. As the custom says._

" _I, Alonso Belatirro, am here to serve… Here to uphold the undertaking our ancestry sought to quell all those years ago" he said to the crowd, who all watched him as he gave his little speech._

 _The crowd erupted into an applause that shook the earth, the other Watchers Elites performed the proper etiquette for the new recruits._

" _Let the Abyss always be at bay! Let our bonds never sway! And let our Creed never decay, now and forever!"_

 _He stepped down from the podium and into the ranks of the silver pointed helmets. Ever since the first trial, he already knew the others approved. All that he needed to seal the deal… was the wolf's blood._

 _He placed his own helmet on and grinned a grin so wide it was borderline wicked._

The mist came once more, but this time, the feeling that fell across the Ashen One's face felt hardly familiar. The way the dry air seemed to cut at your lungs, the way the sky seemed devoid of any life.

He was back in the Kiln of the First Flame. But this time… Something was different. He was watching himself, descending down a staircase that didn't exist in his own version of the Kiln.

" _Finally decided to climb out of your wallowing pity, Solaire?" the other Ansem sneered as he placed his hand on this person's shoulder._

 _The sitting knight smiled a weak smile, watching the katana wielding warrior. Solaire wasn't sure if he felt disdain for the man, but so far, he was the only other man who stuck around. Everyone else… had gone hollow._

" _I am not sure what lies beyond the fog, but I will face it with my head held high, even if the sunless sky does seem to weep here" he responded stoically._

 _Ansem grinned, and he shook his shoulder lightly._

" _This is it my old friend, tonight we put this age of decay to rest and we ensure a future for the world. Will you lend me your strength?"_

 _Solaire nodded his head. He grabbed his straight sword tightly, and with a twirl of the blade, prepared himself for battle._

" _I spent all this time looking for the sun, and no matter where I looked, I was always left in despair and sadness. You shook me to reason when I should have been lost to despair, Ansem. If this be your final battle, I would gladly aid thee" he said as he nodded his head._

They approached the fog wall and slipped into it, but as they did so, the Unkindled finally came to. His body was aching, and he felt like he was years older. He looked up and saw Yuria staring at him, her bodily expression seemingly locked in apprehension.

* * *

He opened his mouth to utter that he felt fine, but before he could respond the fire within him took control again. His eyes went blank and visions of whatever the hell he was seeing began to flash once more...

 _There were blasts of lightning, Gywn's sword burned hotter than any metal Solaire had ever set eyes on. Each block with his shield sent hot sparks flying all around into the darkened arena, and with each successful block he thought his own green shoulder pads would catch fir-_

 _Aldrich climbed the stairs, his throat feeling parched beyond belief._

" _Sybil! I-I can't breath!" he wheezed as he coughed and sputtered._

 _He toppled sideways, his head hitting the marble ground with a defined crack. His eyes saw the pale moon light gleaming in from the window. Sybil put her foot on his chest, pinning him on the lavish ground of Gwyn's Tomb. The Dark Sun tried to escape but she held him tight, a wicked smile appearing on her face._

" _I didn't lie… You will be able to consume this boy, and many other Gods as well if you see fit. But hark, my plan for you isn't to consume him for knowledge. I hope that when you accumulate enough power, I will use you as a catayst, a being able to quell the First Flam-"_

" _But the water! The Endless Ocean! I see it, Sybil! It is real!" he continued to plead._

 _She didn't understand! It was everywhere, he could see golden water pouring from the walls but all she did was laugh and laugh. Why did he drink that damned potion!_

 _The cooze!_

" _You're a fool, Aldrich. Soon you'll be nothing more that a beast, an ever consuming pit. And if things work out well enough, I'll have you consume the flame too. May Velka forgive you, you sad fool"._

 _He felt his vision go faint, and within the minute, he felt himself fall into darkness. He could feel his body dissipate and become goo-like, like he was shifting into a paste…_

 _Then the hunger set in… and it never ended._

* * *

 _Alonso watched as they all approached the tiny flame. The red, abyss rotting men all around him didn't speak. They moved in unison, as a body of one…_

 _Well… except for the outcast…_

" _Does the abyss simply live within the humanity of men? By mere existence we are but bearers of this damned blackness that taints us!" Kilos exclaimed as he cast his helmet off._

 _The helmet crashed into the ground. It was blackened by taint from their last skirmish in the outer lands beyond the woods. Alonso couldn't bear to see what had become of his ally's face…_

 _Alonso glanced at his cape, he could see the blue veins that had begun to crawl up. He didn't have much time left. The only one who had been left unscathed was Hawkwood._

 _Alonso uttered a chuckle._

 _Leave it to the outcast to be the survivor, eh? He had yet to consume the blood anyways, perhaps that is why he was too soft in combat._

" _Then let us burn… If we cannot follow with our words, and if our sins really will continue to weigh us down, I would prefer not to see us crumble and fall apart. Better to end this crusade while we have our minds intact" Detrick said with a small nod._

 _All for one, all for naught._

* * *

"Lord of Hollows! Don't forget your duty to Londor!" Yuria's voice screeched into the dream-like memory.

 _Ludleth crawled into the Kiln, the throne was far too high for him but it was now or never…_

 _He settled into it, feeling the stone cavern around him. He had never been too fond of human contact but now… now it was almost uncanny how ruddy lonely he felt._

 _He uttered a low drool, a sigh that was heard by no one else but the little lord._

"Don't touch him! Let him be! He needs to quell the fire within him! He must inherent the flame if we are to harness it!" a real voice boomed into Ansem's mind.

* * *

Before he could wake up he as thrust once more into the wispy reality. He was back inside the body of a giant, a kingly one who lived in the reflection throne room.

" _If I ever fail to do my task, I want you to take that damned blade and put me deep into the ground" the giant's voice boomed._

 _The Onion Knight looked down at the blade, his eyes full of tears._

" _You don't have to link the Fire, old Friend. Think of Ana-"_

"She _died because of me Siegmeyer... with this, I can at least hope we meet each other in whatever lies beyond the scope of life and death. I doubt I'll have second thoughts, but just in case…"_

 _The knight nodded his head and followed close behind._

" _I have your back old friend. A promise is a promise"._

* * *

" _I do this for you. I hope our love will lead me to you"_ the Unkindled muttered as he writhed on the ground.

"What is he saying?! Gods be damned!" Yuria seethed through her teeth.

Before he could say anything to her, her body became a burning being of charcoal. It was like her body was whisked away under a veil of darkness, and in it's place was another vision of another epic fight. It unfolded out in front of him, and as he watched the two knights battle the being of cinder, he thought of his own battle beneath the Eclipse.

 _Solaire drew his sword from the thick, charcoaled skin of the Lord of Cinder. The cretin finally fell, and just as he did, Ansem let out a cold smile._

 _The hallow chamber suddenly ignited with a bright white light that caused Solaire to shield his eyes. The fire within the lord spun around the room and after an extensive awful show of fire, buried itself into the ground right in the middle of the arena. The coils of this bonfire burned with golden crests fit for a king, leaving Solaire aghast._

 _Right there in front, beholden to him, was the incarnation of the First Flame._

" _It's over! I-I-It's finally over! Our Souls are free!" Ansem screamed, his voice echoing into the chamber around them._

" _Now... link the fire and free yourself of this curse!" Solaire exclaimed as he watched Ansem settle down._

 _Ansem stopped celebrating, his eyebrows rose and a esoteric smile appeared on his face._

" _Why would I do that?" he chortled lightly at the knight of sunlight._

 _Solaire rose his helmeted head towards the other Undead. What was he going to do, if not give himself up for the flame? This was his purpose, was it not?_

" _Why would I want to keep the Age of Fire going? Why would we slaughter Lord Gwyn only to follow in his footsteps? I never had any intention to ignite the flame, dear friend. I only wanted to stomp out whatever pathetic cinders remain so that whatever may come… may come" he said, his dark eyes scanning over the last bonfire in the middle of the kiln._

 _Solaire remained still, utterly motionless. There wasn't a single sound in the kiln besides their hard panting, which did nothing to remedy the slowly hostile air brewing between them._

 _Had this knight whom he had once called friend, used him to stomp out whatever light remain in this world? Was that why he had saved him from Izalith? Simply to live in not only a sunless world, but a lightless world altogether?_

 _How could someone be so cruel?_

" _You fiend of darkness… Has't thou forgotten the very prophecy that saved you from the Undead Asylum? Perhaps it would be better if you rotted back in that stone cage rather than be the bearer of darkness" he spat._

 _Ansem looked at him with wayward eyes._

" _Those are fighting words, Solaire. You'd do well to hold your tongue" he said as his vision narrowed._

 _Solaire approached him, each one of his steps sinking into the ashen ground beneath them. The air was now quiet, holding it's breath as he stopped inches away from the smaller knight's head._

" _What do you hope to accomplish after this is done? What's the point?!"_

" _Don't try to undermine my principles, Solaire" he sneered, his grin becoming more pronounced._

" _You know ridiculous you look when you tout around, trying to find your own sun? What the fuck does that even mean?"_

" _I care not whether you see me as a fool! I knew this ahead of time before I set out on my quest! I-"_

 _Ansem bellowed a laugh that made the hairs on Solaire's neck stand._

" _Don't make me laugh, Solaire" he retorted._

" _You're useful to have around. If you weren't, I would have let you rot in that tunnel full of maggots a long time ago. Or better yet, I would have buried my blade into your back as you watched your petty sun wither!"_

 _Solaire said nothing in return, only stood there in his cold armour. His hands felt cold and shaky, his chest pounded and his forehead began to sweat inside his cylindrical helmet._

 _Ansem turned his back to Solaire, practically waltzing out the front entrance._

" _If I had known…" Solaire began in a sullen voice._

" _But you didn't" Ansem interrupted, his footsteps slowly fading into the dead land beyond._

" _and now you'll never do any of those things you wanted to. You won't ever find your own sun… you won't ever do any of those things Solaire because you never could"_

 _He turned around, his silhouette against the dying light from outside the kiln._

" _We were never meant to amount to anything Solaire! We're just pawns of God's who don't give a rat's ass about us! So why not just usher in the unknown? Embrace that fear?"_

 _Solaire turned his back to the Lord of Hollows._

" _We escaped the Asylum" he whispered,_

" _We made the pilgrimage to Lordran, we rang the two bells and we learned the fate of the undead"._

 _His bare hands slowly lifted itself over the bonfire. He heard Ansem break into a desperate run, the ashes flying in all directions._

 _"If I cannot find my sun... I'll gladly accept this as my redemption for what I've helped you do"_

" _No! What are you doing!?"_

 _Solaire burst into a scorching aura, and within seconds, his being kindled the flame in a whirlwind of flame so bright and so hot it blazed with an intensity far greater than Gwyn ever could rival. It filled the arena and sat atop the ruined structure like a furnace exploding from within. Whatever other tinder lay inside the kiln was cast into the abyss below, forever lost._

 _The Sun emerged from that sad kiln, rising up into with it's bright light and consuming the ashen landscape. But even a fire as bright as this will eventually fade, and one day, another will give itself for the flame._

 _Then there was a gulf of white light, whatever was left of Solaire was nothing more than a memory that danced liked one of the sparks off the core of the First Flame._

 _No matter who took up the mantle, they all burned like tinder._

* * *

Ansem huddled to escape the flame, feeling the burning sensation crawl all around his wrinkly, grotesque body. Was this the culmination of all of their burnings? Or was this his own burning?

But just as he felt his skin sear into charcoal he felt a cool wave of water pass over him like a wave of relief. He stood up from his embarrassing position and found himself smack in the middle of a hardly recognisable Firelink Shrine. There stairs which were normally in a desolate state looked new, bearing a nice finish that extended across all the walls of the safe haven.

Wax candles that were scattered by the thousands lit up the chamber, and the numerous cracks in the walls and ceiling that had normally been present were completely sealed.

He looked over to the stairs where he half expected the FireKeeper to be, but there wasn't anyone there. But that didn't mean he was alone.

He turned his gaze to the thrones that normally housed nothing but the remains of the Lords he killed and in their place were the Lord's themselves, each of them draped in white- impossibly white- garbs. They didn't say anything, all they did was watch him from their thrones with cold, dead eyes.

Ansem reached for his sword but his hands found nothing but open air; there was nothing on him, not even the armour he had carried into the fight. All he bore was the flimsy cloth that he woke up in when he came into this world.

"Such a disappointment" a low, voice boomed from behind Ansem.

The Unkindled whirled around, his teeth bearing from the condescending attitude the voice carried. In his wake stood a tall, built man wearing white robes much in the same vein as the other Lords of Cinder. His face was wrinkled and the large beard that sat on his face was groomed in such as way that he seemed to carry a weight of royalty to him. Upon his head was a pointy crown that looked more like a warriors trident than a king's adornment.

The man descended from the stairs on the same path that the Firekeeper usually sat at. He stood, arms crossed as his piercing blue eyes glanced over the Unkindled with a sort of bitter stare.

"If you're wondering why he isn't burning, it's because he has more than one dark sigil inside him" a familiar voice called from above him.

Ansem, naked and alone, turned to face the second voice. It was a tall man with combed blonde hair and a wide smile. His face was completely unrecognisable, but he carried a much more friendly aura to him than the old man. As he descended down to his level, he walked towards the Unkindled.

"I thought Unkindled weren't supposed to hollow. But... I suppose if there are clever minds trying to ignite the flame, there will be clever minds trying to covet it" he breathed as he examined the Ashen One with a sense of awe and amazement.

The older man let out a low grumble.

"Your little game failed, Sunless One" he spat at the friendlier man.

The other man gave the older man a sly smile.

"I could say the same to you, Gywn. It's not my blood that refused to ignite the flame and start this whole affair of reviving cindered lords in the first place. But I digress, in the end none of it matters" he said as he turned back to the stairs.

The cheery man took a seat on the staircase and smiled up at Ansem.

"The least you could have done was imagined two more thrones. But I supposed beggars can't be choosers".

Ansem didn't know what to say, all he knew was that he was surrounded by silent, menacing Lords of Cinders. The Abyss Watcher sat on his thrown, his lap buried under a dozen other helmets. Yhorm towered in his colossal throne, Ludleth in his small one and a skinny man in holy robes in the throne that belonged to Aldrich. In the throne in the middle was Lothric, still in his swaddling clothes.

"Who are you?" he spat at the cheery man and the stoic one.

The man called Gwyn let out a scoff but the other one let out a laugh that seemed to outweigh any sort of condescending attitude given off by the taller man.

"That one over there is Gywn, the first Lord of Cinder".

The cheery man stood up and made an odd movement where he brought his legs together, stood on his toes and stretched out his arms to his side making a 'Y' pose.

"And my name, is Solaire of Astora, the second Lord of Cinder.

* * *

A/N: I actually finished this chapter towards the end of September but I wasn't sure if I wanted to submit it the way it was. But regardless, I have much to explain.

I originally had a larger fight written with the Soul of Cinder, but the truth is that the weight of the fight is next to nothing if you haven't played the first game, and to follow up with the effects of the First Flame would be a little bit pointless from Ansem's perspective since he has no recollection of things that had already happened. So instead, I made it seem that the physical fight wasn't the challenge- bordering the importance of a nuisance in the eyes of the Unkindled. This is enforced even more with the two summons that the Unkindled uses for the fight. But as shown, the true battle is trying to not succumb to the flame and become tinder to elongate the Age of Fire.

The idea that the flame carries some of the memories from it's past hollows isn't that farfetched to be honest. During the fight in the game, the Soul of Cinder takes on many different fighting styles, the last one being similar to that of Gywn's, the first Lord of Cinder from Dark Souls 1. So it's almost inferred that the other fighting styles are from past Lords of Cinder, so you can play around with the idea that if the fighting style is important to who a character is, then perhaps the Soul of Cinder houses more than just the fighting styles of the Lords. This is kind of supported by the game to, since the description of the "Soul of the Lords" (the item dropped after defeating the Soul of Cinder) says: "Since Lord Gwyn, the First Lord of Cinder, many exalted lords have linked the First Flame, and it is their very souls that have manifested themselves as defender of the flame". So there is proof of some semblance of the old Lords inside the First Flame, everything else is speculation.

Yhorm's story isn't really my own work of fiction and is moderately covered in the game. There is so much evidence of his people disliking him, since there are no statues or anything that pay him homage. His weapon description mentions a dead lover, and the item description of the storm ruler shows that he gave one to his people and one to a dear friend. I didn't want to mention the profane flame since it's a loose plot point in Yhorm's story and has more to do with the Pontiff. All I had to really do was spin a tale of 'why' he would give his citizens a storm ruler and it makes sense for him to do it to show that his life is always in his people's hands, even if they didn't like him. As to why he would give himself up to the flame is a bit of a mystery. Could it be grief? Could he be trying to undo his curse? Do giants burn the same way that smaller hollows do? While there is some evidence that by using his body as tinder the fire became so big it swallowed the city killing his people, it isn't explained how you can just 'decide' to link the fire from within the Capital itself. I sort of scratch my head at that point, since it really adds a whole lot of confusion. It could make sense if the capital was actually built around the first flame and that by linking the fire the city sank, but there is no concrete evidence of that at all. If anything, they built the city around the profaned flame, which still sits down below the earth, so where does the First Flame come in?

The point I'm trying to make is that the flashbacks of Yhorm make sense, and I purposefully avoided trying to reason _how_ he linked the fire because even with the in-game lore there are plot holes. But if anyone has an explanation I would love it hear it!

Aldrich's story is mostly shrouded in mystery, but I managed. You know he had a fascination with the Gods, he had revelations about an "Age of Oceans" and he eventually became a purple sludge with ate everything. It isn't clear as to why he linked the flame either, but I figured that since everything shady happens in Boreal Valley, he must have been part of some plot to undermine the flame. I don't know many people who would willingly become a purple sludge, so that lends credibility that he may not have done it on his own accord. This is where a bit of Dark Souls 2 comes in, and oddly enough much of any connection between Dark Souls 2 and 3 is in or around the Boreal Valley. Aldia, Scholar of the First Sin, wondered if there was a way to inherit the flame and harness the power of dark, a method proved possible in the Usurping the Flame ending in Dark Souls 3 which is what Ansem ends up doing. This method was tried by many people, King Vendrick being one of them. I like to think that the people in the Boreal Valley were captivated by this idea, and it shows because they have an adorned room with pictures of Nashandra and the Throne of Want. They must have been hard at work trying to do same thing that was trying to be done in Dark Souls 2, and that explains why you would want a purple sludge that could devourer things. Aldrich was probably an Undead, so he had the dark sigil within him, and if he could devour a God, perhaps he would absorb the power of the Flame. It's not a strong hypothesis, and perhaps it isn't meant to be since if this theory is true then the experiment ended in failure. I imagine that when they brought him to the flame, instead of him swallowing the Flame, the fire used him to link the Flame all the same, extending the age.

The Abyss Watchers are pretty cool, but their story is also complicated. They were all skilled warriors, all drank from the "Wolf's Blood" (which is what really linked the flame, not the individuals) and sought to follow up the legacy of Artorias, the Abyss Walker. But I thought it would be weird to have visions from hundreds of warriors at the same time, so I took visions from one point of view. It's clear that they were being corrupted by the Abyss, but it's not clear as to why they kindled the flame. I imagined it was just so that they wouldn't become weird, creepy, Abyss demons and they probably realised that the Abyss comes from the humanity inside people including themselves, and decided to purge themselves with the fire. Only those who didn't have the wolf's blood were left behind, which is why Hawkwood is the only remaining one left.

Ludleth actually uses the Throne of Want in my story, and even though he burned slowly, it was all he ever really wanted to amount to. There isn't a lot of evidence for this, but that being said, there is literally no evidence as to why he linked the flame, what circumstances led him to do so, and what resulted from his linking. I wasn't sure if this would piss people off, but since his story is little to none to begin with, perhaps he simply wanted to make himself useful in an age where things were relatively quite boring. He simply extended the age, but there wasn't conflict in the world like with the other Lords.

Lothric never lit the flame so he wasn't part of the First Flame's memory show. But he will be mentioned in the next chapter so sit tight.

Now onto the bit that is a little more controversial, Solaire and Ansem. It was referenced in the chapter with Yhrom that Siegward recognised Ansem from a long, long time ago from Sen's Fortress, a reference to Dark Souls 1. Siegward even mentions that Ansem was trying to fulfil the prophecy of the Undead, and points out that the Ansem of the past had a fortitude that made Siegward think he had the chance the light the flame... but didn't. This made Siegward wonder why Ansem had come back as an Unkindled. Each character in DSIII has a connection to each of the Lords of Cinder: Siegward with Yhrom, Hawkwood with the Abyss Watcher, and Anri/ Horace with Aldrich. But there isn't a reason why Ansem should have been resurrected at all. It's popularly speculated that the protagonist (Ansem) is somehow liked to Lothric, but the only connection I can make is that both of them had a chance to Link the Flame and they chose not to. Lothric didn't because he thought it was moot and so did Ansem, just many years before. I'll bite down on that theory for now, but that still begs the question: If Ansem didn't light the flame... who did?

The only probable answer would be Solaire if you saved him from the Sunlight Maggot back in Dark Souls 1. I'll gloss over the details since it's a long and arduous process, but if you jump through the right hoops, you could save Solaire and he becomes the only possible summon for the final battle against Gwyn. Ansem, and I'm referring to the one in the past, wasn't a good person in the slightest. The way he acts, taunts, and sneers makes him almost unrecognisable to the figure who is in Ylisstol. And if he seemed upbeat from Siegward's recollection, it's important to note that Sen's Fortress is early on in the game. A lot can happen between then and the Kiln. That only lends more mystery as to what made him change and makes you wonder if by using Katanas, he is reminded of the Undead he was long ago.

Let's say he escapes the Asylum, fully believing that he is the chosen undead from the prophecy. He rings the bells, gets to Anor Londo, gets the Lord Vessel- and just when things are going great he comes across Kaathe.

Kaathe throws a wrench in the system placed by Gwyndolin (the prophecy is just a way to give purpose to the undead and kindle the flame, but lo' and behold, anyone can kindle the flame and there isn't just one 'chosen undead') and he starts down a dark path that allows him to satisfy Kaathe. But he eventually finds the Fair Lady and takes pity on her, allowing him to find his way to the Sunlight Maggot and help Solaire. As the two reach the flame, Ansem turns his back on the flame thanks to the knowledge from Kaathe, and Solaire, meaning to fulfil the prophecy, kindles the flame in his place. Ansem is then " _cast into the abyss below, forever lost"_ and eventually goes hollow. But when he regains his purpose after becoming an Unkindled for Lothric, he is once again seduced by the agents of Kaathe and goes down a dark path once more. This is how the cycle repeats itself, and but this time the cycle breaks because with the power to inherit the flame (being an Unkindled) and the power to harness the darkness (carrying multiple dark sigils), Ansem accomplishes what Aldia sought to do all those years ago.

But the real question... is what happens now?

UPDATE EDIT: Fixed some grammar issues and what not. It irks me that I never get them all out on my first run of editing! I'm sure there are still some more and If I spot them I'll update again.


	19. Chapter XVIII

Chapter XVIII:

Chasing Fire

In the middle of the decorative stone room sat a throne with much adoration and detail put into it. Sat atop the bright red cloth was a boy, wretch with illness and pale beyond any healthy decree. He hugged his arms for warmth, his timid eyes casting all around the room as his head began to fill to the brim with questions. The last thing he remembered was sitting atop his brother, his spells of light cast into the air and the two of them locked in combat with an Unkindled who had come for him.

"Ah… I was burned along with the other sodomites, wasn't I? Poor me… Poor, poor me" the boy muttered as he crawled towards the edge of the throne.

He saw a group of three at the bottom of the large cold room. Two of them were in gowns similar to that of a priest, the other was nearly naked. As the three men conversed his curious eyes wallowed around and he found himself aghast by the beings garbed in heavenly white that sat in their own thrones. To the boy, it immediately made sense where he was, and how he had gotten here.

The thing that cemented his realisation of being a Lord of Cinder was the swaddling clothes he himself bore that had the same angelic colour as the others.

"Lorian!?" he shouted out into the room, his pitiful cry echoing throughout.

The three men stopped their arguing, their heads shot up to the boy in surprise. The other Lords sat still, eyeing the deprived one with eyes of malice, but with no sense of life in them whatsoever.

"Lorian? Where are you!?"

He could feel the hot tears begin to pry themselves from underneath his eyelids. He was frozen with a fear that he had never felt before, a longing filled his heart and he felt completely alone for the first time in his entire life. It didn't matter that he was in a strange place…

What did matter was that he was really the last of his lineage. Lothric was now dead. And although he had broken his curse, he was now all alone…

* * *

The three men had gathered around the sobbing boy. His recoiled cries filed the air, but even so, Solaire began to speak.

"There, there little one" he spoke in his calm, soothing voice.

The little boy gazed up at the blonde haired man, his dead eyes filled with water.

" _Why_? Why should I? I am _dead_ am I not?" the boy spat in retaliation to the much patient Solaire, "Won't I have to live here in this sad place forever?!".

Solaire smiled a warm, gentle smile that barely creased wrinkles on his smooth face. His blue eyes looked as if they were going to fill with tears, and although Ansem didn't have much regard for compassion, he did feel uneasy as he saw this man approach the throne.

"No, little swan. You are indeed dead, but _you_ " he pointed to the boy's chest, " _you_ are not the same being as the one who has imbued the flame with invigorating life. You are but Lothric's shadow, his fleeting memory".

Solaire consoled the boy with a gentle pat on his back.

"Lothric, the Last of his Line, no longer breaths nor blinks. And in time, as you accept this, this fleeting memory you call yourself will wither into nothing more than a pillar in the Soul of Cinder, and find peace with your actions".

Lothric buried his head in his lap, crying so loudly that Gwyn seemed to recoil in a mixture of disgust and pity. Ansem wondered if he was proud to know that his line gave himself up for Gwyn's cause, or saddened by how hideous his bloodline had become. As the seconds of sobbing grew to minutes, and the boy eventually calmed down, Ansem saw him draw his breath and recline in his chair, imitating a proper monarch. Lothric let out a breath of relief, and as he did so, Lothric's eyes cast themselves upon Ansem.

Finally, all five of the Lords sat, eyeing Ansem with their ghastly stares.

* * *

"Why do they do that?" Ansem hissed with a quickened, apprehensive tone.

Solaire stood away from the now vegetated boy and faced the Ashen One. He walked past him, gesturing him to follow him and the three of them trudged their way back to the bottom of the Shrine. As they moved down the torch lit stairways, it the was First Lord of Cinder who answered his question.

"The Lords are moved by your sense of duty, but their sense of disdain for your corruption fills their withered corpses to a much higher degree. I cannot lie, I too house a grievance for your Unkindled face- but there is no denying you have bested us all... to some _extent_."

Solaire reared himself as he heard Gwyn's explanation.

"To be blunt... It's merely because we are not overtly kind at losing our existence. But alas, it does seem that the coming age is unstoppable".

Ansem raised an eyebrow, his grotesque skin cracking with erosion with the movement.

"So then I am free to go? I don't wish to stay any longer with the sort of resentment I am getting from these... charred hosts" he said, gazing up at the five titans who glared down at him.

Solaire shrugged.

"I suppose you can" he said as he gestured towards the doorway that was similar to the one the Unkindled had timidly walked through the first time he made his way to the shrine.

The Unkindled cast a glance at Gywn, who stood arms crossed with the same sort of pompous attitude that he had when Ansem awoke inside the dream like building. He turned and climbed each one of the stairs. As he was cresting the top, he could see a fog wall that he knew if he passed through it's murky substance, he would be free of this terribly strange vision.

"Ansem the Just" Solaire said in a thinking tone.

The Ashen One froze, he turned back and walked to the edge of the raised platform level with the door. Solaire stood in the middle, pensive in his robes and his eyes piercing Ansem's figure with it's sky blue aura.

"What did you say?" The Ashen One said.

"That's the name you were buried with, the name you introduced yourself as a long time ago. Ansem the Just" he said, lazily kicking up some of the grey dust that lay in the middle of the room.

Solaire looked over to to Gwyn, then back at the Unkindled.

"So what? That name doesn't belong to me. I am the Chosen Unkindled, I brought the Lord of Cinders to their knees and I brought an end to the decaying world of Lothric. I-"

"Yes, I know the tune quite well. In my time, you called yourself the Chosen Undead then, and in time you eventually called yourself Lord of Darkness. You were reborn as the Chosen Unkindled, and once again fell prey to the darkness of hollows" Solaire said with a tone of irony.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at. The Age of Fire was dying, I don't see why I would act in accordance with it's keeping I-"

"But how did you feel about the Ansem in your visions? The one that I fought beside? Did he seem like a man who could build a nation? Did he seem like someone who was capable of self determining?"

The Unkindled looked back at the door. It was true. Ansem the Just seemed irritable, mad, and beyond reason. It made his skin crawl when he noticed that 'Ansem's' face was exactly the same as his. That man's demeanour made his own spine shudder and he wondered if _that_ man's actions were really free from his own conscious. Before he could ruminate on any more action, Solaire spoke some more.

"It's not your... _his_ fault that he was seduced by darkness. Darkness is within every man. It lies in each and every hollow and human alike" he said as he slowly ascended the staircase to meet the Unkindled.

He crested the top of the staircase and put his hand on his breast.

"It was within me, but I acted in good faith because of my... _ridiculous_ ideals. My commitment to fables and prophecies is what saved me, and your commitment to your duty is what was supposed to save you, but as it did in the past, it became your undoing".

Gwyn muttered a low growl of distaste.

" _Kaathe_ " the lord vibrated.

Solaire gave Gwyn a quick glance before returning to Ansem.

"I'm cannot choose for you but know this, Chosen Unkindled. As soon as you exit this chamber, and you awaken back in the Kiln, the curse will still exist, the hollows who seduced you will use the power of the Flame to build a kingdom of ruin. Londor will be reborn, and so would begin the actual demise of the world".

The Lord of Hollows rolled his eyes.

"Really? I'm not quite sure how much worse it could ge-"

Solaire cut him off.

"How many pilgrims traveled to Lothric? What happened to Anri and Horace? Thousands upon thousands of mindless beings already follow you, but are in really in control? _Or_ are you simply a pawn of Yuria and the Sable Chur-?"

" _I am in control._ I can make the Sable Church do my bidding if I so-".

Solaire let out a sigh that made the Unkindled quiver with anger.

"Perhaps you aren't the only Unkindled involved with Londor, and for all you know, as soon as give them the Fire you'll be tossed to the side and discarded, played as a fool once agai-"

" _Shut up_! What do you know of the outside world? You're not even real! Why should I even be listening to a word you say?" Ansem howled at the Sunlight Knight.

A pang of silence sat between them. Ansem turned to exit the fog wall but as he was about to touch the wispy air Solaire spoke once more.

"Ansem… you really believe that after all you've seen, you don't carry any desire to repent for the things you've done? I... we can offer another way"

The Ashen One stood pensively.

"What's in it for me? You said that the curse wouldn't disappear, so why should I do anything for you guys? For all I know, this is all happening in my head and none of it is real".

Solaire stood erect, a warm smile on his face.

"True… But so far I haven't lied to you, so I'll part you with another truth. If you don't find a purpose, then you will be sapped away into darkness and when you do hollow, the flame inside you will consume you and not long after, we will fade away too. While it does seem grim, I think I know of a way to stave the hollowing".

Ansem cocked an eyebrow. His voice suddenly took a different cadence that was unlike anything Solaire heard him say when they were companions back in the day.

"What about the Firekeeper?"

" _What about her_? She's-" Gwyn began, but was immediately interrupted by Solaire.

"You can take her with you. Her purpose is to serve you no matter what end you achieve. Collect her and head for the mountains. Go past the Boreal Valley, and eventually you will find yourself at a lake. Row across the lake and there and nestled under the darkness of the valley is a great tree. When you get there… The Firekeeper will tell you what to do" Solaire explained as he put his hand on Ansem's shoulder.

"Don't do this for me… Nor for any of us. One day the fire will once again begin to diminish, deep inside your core. When it does, only then will you know the true fate of the Undead. I know that what you find beyond the tree will solve your problems, as long as the Firekeeper is with you".

Ansem wasn't sure why Solaire was so adamant that he wouldn't just turn his back on this 'plan' as soon as he left this dream. But that being said… Something about the company resonated with him, making the whole ordeal... more fulfilling.

As if Solaire could read his heart, he gestured out to the fog wall and led Ansem towards it. Ansem put his hands through the fog and traversed it, feeling the rush of dead air fill this lungs.

He blinked, and in an instant, he found himself curled up on the floor of the ashen world. The eclipse had become a bright, pale ball that hung in the background, and as Ansem rose from the ground, it was almost as if he was caressing the ball up to new heights.

"Lord of Hollows" he heard Yuria speak.

To her side was another person he had never seen before, dressed in the same garb as her. But his eyes appeared in shock as looked past them as the dozens upon dozens of hollows who were bowed down behidn their Lord of Hollows.

Behind them far in the distance, like a shifting ocean floor, were millions of hollows who were marching, trudging, slumping through the dead land just to congregate around the Sable Church. It was then, that Ansem saw the hollows for what they were.

Slaves…

* * *

It was almost as if the dead air that Ansem had described in his adventures filled Lucina's nostrils as the sun began to rise, beating the side of the old wall with harsh, bright light that reflected off the snow topped plains of Regna Ferox. Lucina rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and as she did so, Ansem stopped his story. Lucina offered him a raised eyebrow as to why he didn't continue and in response, he glanced over to the sleeping Owain and Robin.

Ah, she thought to herself. He only wants _her_ to hear the story.

Filled with a small pompous affection that danced on her ego, she nodded her head and yawned deeply.

"Sorry I didn't let you get any sleep" he said, scratching his head as he reached into his bottomless box.

Lucina lazily dismissed the apology with a tired wave of her hand.

"Don't fret. It's my job to keep watch over you" she said with a tired smile on her face.

Ansem gave her an understanding nod before picking himself off of the ground and walking over to the edge of the tower. He placed his hands on one the stone railings and felt the coarse texture of the tower. Lucina looked at him from a distance, watching as he gazed out towards the sunlight.

"I sought to break the cycle that I was burdened with... _both_ times. That is why I am so fascinated by your own tale, Lucina. If I had that power, even an ounce of it, there is no telling what I would go back and change. Perhaps I would have never made contact with Yuria, then I would have defeated all the Lords and then burned alongside them in a glorious maelstrom of flame".

The Ashen One beat the wall with a swift, violent jab of his fist. Powdery snow flew off and danced in the wind.

"Or perhaps I was just destined to be ill fated no matter what path I choose. Even this one has left me unspeakably lost and misguided. No knowledge of my world and it's understanding, no amount of strength that I wielded- I even cheated death on a daily basis and I still was unable to seriously make a difference for good. Men in this world don't have that luxury, and look at all the good they have accomplished. Truly this is a world of unspeakable courage, courage that I am bereft of".

As he finished his little speech they heard a rustling noise. Lucina shot her head in the direction of the noise to see Robin waking up from her slumber. She stretched her arms into the cold air and let out a satisfied yawn. Her amber eyes met with Lucina and she smiled a warm smile. No words were spoken between the two of them, and even though Lucina had told Ansem that she would bear his secret, later that day she would reveal everything he had said to her.

"How was the watch?" she said as she rubbed whatever sleep was in her eyes.

Lucina got up and stretched out.

"Oddly refreshing" she murmured.

Robin gathered up her supplies and packed them into a bag. As she did, Owain began to stir and his eyes shot open, staring blankly at the side of the tower.

"We set out in 10 minutes, Owain. Ansem, get the horses ready".

Ansem turned towards the stairs with a nod and began to move.

"Where are we going?" Owain demanded as he forced himself to awaken completely.

Robin swung her bag around her waist and gave him a sly smile.

"We're going to find ourselves a missing Khan".

* * *

A/N: As much as I enjoy writing about Ansem's past, I felt that it was about time we returned to the present.

Ansem is given another alternative on top of the usurpation of the flame that he intends to take proposed to him by the apparition of Solaire, but there seems to be a dreadful omen for what is to come. He has to carry the flame inside him till it burns out, but since he is going to be in company of the Firekeeper, he doesn't seem to mind- or give any thought as to how long that might take. Ansem is supposed to travel beyond the Boreal Valley with the Firekeeper, and seeing as how he shows up in the Fire Emblem Universe alone, broken, and hoping that by traveling to the new land, he would be able to escape the curse and die right on the spot, his journey doesn't look like it is to be fruitful.

Anyways, time to respond to some reviews.

To Napster 153: Of course I've heard of Miracle of Sounds! They're pretty atmospheric but I'm more of a fan of Alex Roe's music (except his metal composition of dark souls music). Both have good orchestral tracks and I do listen to them while I write. I think Roe just put out a rendition of Yhorm's theme which was pretty tight and I really recommend it.

To Tentaclecat: I see your point but I'm pretty sure Lucina is pretty much a better warrior by definition than Ansem and it sort of comes down to a nature vs nurture comparison. Fire Emblem shows that experience/levels matter and it's character growth rate is what exemplify a 'good' character from a 'godly' character. Lucina's growth rate is one of the best thanks to her genetics and because she's an MC, so in line with Fire Emblem's school of thought, she should be pretty damn powerful. Dark Souls on the other hand also has experience and levels, but what really draws the line from a 'good' character from a 'godly' character is the player himself and his build rather than his soul level. No matter what SL Ansem is, he'll always attack at the same speed and move at the speed dictated by his armour and weapon weight combination (I know you can technically spec into weight but I don't know any builds with the exception of Havel builds that have players levelling that up). The point I'm trying to make is that Ansem's strengths is dictated by the rules of his world, while Lucina's strengths are dictated by the rules of her world. Without much time to learn Lucina's moves, Ansem was essentially fighting a boss for the first time in a DS game. Chances are, you are going to lose. But as he learns, his odds improve.

On a side note, I recently played through Ashes of Ariandel and thought it was pretty good but it was far, far too short. I'm not sure how/if I'm going to incorporate it into this story but I will take some time to ruminate on the concept. I'm sure I could incorporate it into the story, but at the same time, the DLC didn't exactly change much of the lore that would conflict with the story, so for now we're good with or without it's incorporation.


	20. UPDATE

_**Update 11/6/2016**_

Hey y'all,

So uh, I'm just going to write this by just _flowing_ \- so bear in mind any sort of weird nuisances in my writing.

We're a good 18 chapters in but I think I need to take a few steps back. Like a painter who set his primer and puts on a coat of paint, I sort of need to go back to go over any spots I missed during the first coat. I like to re-read stuff that I've written and it honestly pains me that there are grammatical errors that pull me out of the story. The amount of times I buried my face into my hands because I misspelled a word or mucked something up (especially in the latest 'college written' chapters) is getting staggeringly high, so it's about time I did something about it.

So I guess what I'm saying is that I'm calling a temporary hiatus... or more like a pause. I'm hesitant to say hiatus because I will still be 'working' on the project by editing all of the previously made chapters, but there will be a lack of newer content. I'm sure this is a huge turn off for most people.

But that's just the way it has to be, ya know?

I mean... everyone wants their work to be good and that's admirable and all- but I want the story to be **nearly flawless** , and I know that goal is out of my reach if I cannot even proofread my own work!

Sorry if this seems sudden but I would rather get this out of the way sooner than later. I don't want people to think I died and just stopped writing all together. I just want to secure a good foundation for the rest of the story that way other people can see my story without having to squint around the errors.

In terms of story content, I'm pretty satisfied. I still have a lot of storyboard to use for the upcoming chapters so I'm not on a creative drought. I just need to find time to sit down and type it all out which is hard, but definitely not impossible. I have spouts of time in nice small intervals which is perfect to sit down, read a chapter and then edit it. Writing a chapter takes more time even with a storyboard, and as elections and the holidays are coming, long intervals of time are becoming more and more scarce.

So yeah, I should be done in about a week and then I'll be up and about writing another chapter. I'll probably just take this _chapter_ down and replace it with chapter 19 so look forward to that! Thanks for the support and critique!


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